


A Slaughter of Songbirds

by Meatbike344



Series: Let the Right One In [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, Angst and Tragedy, Blood and Gore, Claude von Riegan is a Little Shit, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd Needs a Hug, Love Triangles, M/M, Manipulation, Murder, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Obsession, Possessive Behavior, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Violence, Yandere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:54:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 58,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27997854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatbike344/pseuds/Meatbike344
Summary: DIRECT SEQUEL: Garreg Mach Boarding School for the Troubled YouthFive years since Dimitri's accident, which stole away most of his memories, the man, now the CEO of his family's company, now has to survive in a world of talented liars, professional thieves, and million-dollar murderers.While most of his friends are gone, dealing with their own lives, Dimitri is attempting to hold onto his own piece of sanctuary. Unfortunately, with a dangerous underworld king attempting to court him from a throne of blood money, and a charming, enigmatic figure from his mysterious past, Dimitri may have to hold on for dear life or he might find himself in a gilded cage.For clipped and songless birds.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Let the Right One In [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856698
Comments: 45
Kudos: 75





	1. A Meeting Among Kings

Not all funerals were held on days of rain.

Some, and the more tragic examples, happened right under the bright blue skies of the summer sun. It was twenty-three degrees Celsius, the adrestian cicadas were screaming from the trees, there was hardly a spot of white in the sky, and below the plains of pure green and mountains of purple, a long line of black figures slowly gathered around a silver field of graves.

Women were draped in long ebony gowns, which dragged along the freshly trimmed grass, and only wore jewelry at the neck – a simple chain necklace; Men wore suits as dark as shadow and smelled of a deep alcoholic smoke and imported bourbon.

They trailed with lowered heads behind a black oak casket decorated in a royal blue flag and supported by its muted carriers. In front was a sole figure, dressed darker than the winter midnight against a world too fulfilled by its flushing colors.

Up ahead, a man of the Goddess waited. And the mouth of the earth opened up and ready to reunite flesh and bone to the mud and soil. No tears were shed as the shadows convened in a circle and listened in silence, staring off towards where the casket was lowered deep into the ground.

A man of wealth as his death bed was made from the finest wood and decorated in the softest of fabrics with the morose colors of winter. And yet, neither of these made any difference as the soil spilled down until the last remnants of royal blue disappeared behind the earth. The last of the prayer ended and everyone said their farewells.

The sky was still bright and golden when only five remained. Even the priest said his goodbye but not before touching the freshly tapped soil and making his way over to the string of funeral cars at the road. The field of graves, engraved with names and dates from far off, had long lost their solemness; just pale and cracked stones jutting out from the earth in a strange language shallowly appreciated by the living.

The five stood there in a shared silence. Then slowly, one by one, they departed from that burial ground until it was just two left. A large yet gentle hand was placed on the head mourner’s shoulders—not as a sign of comfort for the dead, but an appeasement for the future. The mourner nodded graciously at his tall companion’s gesture of support and signaled for him to go off alone.

That hand lingered, somewhat protective, before sliding off and retracting to a hesitant side. Eventually, the head mourner was left completely alone: just him and the gravestone that haunted him beside three others.

_Blaiddyd_

A family curse; a generational violence; a deep sickness in the blood that slipped down from descendant to descendant until there was one left. The head mourner moved his boots from the plot of dirt as if standing anywhere close to the dead repulsed him, and gazed off to the shining horizon beyond the new stone that joined the others.

It was the height of summer in the usually cold outskirts of Fhirdiad. The temperature was twenty-three degrees Celsius—an extreme rarity in the north. It was a warm and sunny afternoon with the cicadas chirping and the songbirds singing.

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd was twenty-three years old. Rufus Blaiddyd was dead. And this young man had just inherited his family’s entire company. A rising entrepreneur, they would call him tomorrow! Young blood and fresh full of ideas! A welcome addition to the Fódlan’s Round Table! A youthful successor to the late Rufus and Lambert!

But the only idea that ran through Dimitri’s mind was a crawling, hollow one:

_I’m the last one left._

And the songbirds rejoiced.

_______________________________

 **The Fódlan Courier**

“ _ **From the Hand of the Messenger to the Lord of the Castle”**_

Fódlan € 5,00 – Duscur € 6,50 – Brigid € 7,00 – Dagda € 9,00

Edition 2XXX. Garland Moon.

**RUFUS BLAIDDYD’S DEATH AND BLAIDDYD FOUNDATION SUCCESSION**

It is with much sadness that we announce the death of Rufus Blaiddyd (55), President of the Bladdiyd Foundation. He passed away from complications from pancreatic cancer and was surrounded by his family and friends in his home in Kleiman.

A funeral was held for him last Sunday in Fhirdiad, buried next to his brother, Fódlan's late President, Lambert Blaiddyd. All of Northern Fódlan's head figures in industry and business were present including those from other parts of the country to pay their respect.

However, with Rufus Blaiddyd’s passing, the Blaiddyd Foundation is now undergoing the process of inheritance with his nephew and Lambert’s son, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd (23), who had been training under the company as it’s heir.

However, there has been an open call by some members of Fódlan's Round Table that Bladdiyd is an ill choice for succession and has come to question that state of the young man’s mental health and personal history.

Blaiddyd had come under his uncle’s wing five years ago where he suffered an accident at the now-closed Garreg Mach Boarding School for the Troubled Youth, where he was reportedly attending to help with his “suicidal tendencies and depressive episodes” as officially stated by Rufus Blaiddyd five years ago.

Since then, he has undergone extensive physical and mental therapy under the aid of several nation-wide experts including, Dr. Cornelia Arnim, head of Southern Fódlan's Medical Conference.

“I hardly see what the problem is. Dimitri has made massive steps in progress since he was a boy and I can say with much certainty that he has quite the mind and the heart for his family’s business,” stated Dr. Arnim. “All this debating is simply inconveniencing everyone, not that it will change the outcome.”

The Round Table, which is at the center of this conflict, is notable for being made up of an alliance of several Eastern Fódlan companies such as Gloucester Inc., Goneril Private Division, and Riegan Tech—notable for past behaviors of aggression towards rival companies in neighboring regions and even to each other.

Blaiddyd is expected to take his uncle’s place and attend as the Blaiddyd Foundation’s newest head at the annual Round Table Talk held at the Gloucester estate next month.

When asked about the open opposition from his rivals and even partnering corporations, Blaiddyd formally requests time to mourn his uncle and prepare for his official take over of the company.

In the same vein as many other of Fódlan's top businesses, we are starting to see the rise of young heirs like Dimitri Blaiddyd as a majority of the Round Table already having undergone official changes in leadership with their respective successors.

Perhaps next month’s talk will prove to bear the fruits of friendship seldom seen in the past.

_______________________________

“How long will you two be gone?”

“Half a year---”

“A year.”

The growling voice broke through the soft lightness of the morning, and the jovial mood of moving boxes and a post-lunch dictum gradually dissipated to a mere hiss. Dimitri blinked at the interruption, and swerved his head over to the doorway, where a familiar and somewhat aching sight stood before him, one that never failed to make him feel small.

“What do you mean a year, Fel? I thought we agreed on half a year?” Sylvain said with a nervous chuckle. The red head gently pushed his half-filled suitcase over to the side and stood up, approaching Felix at the doorway.

“Well I changed my mind. We need a year—I worked too hard just to come back mid way and deal with more trouble,” Felix reaffirmed in a harsher tone, but Dimitri knew it was more directed at him than the dark-haired man’s newly-wed husband. In these moments, he was merely a child in a room with an irritated parent and could only look off to the side in shame.

“Come on, Felix. We promised Dima here that we would come back and help with the company. Besides, half a year in Sreng sounds long enough, right?”

“No. I’m not half-assing our honeymoon.”

“Fel---”

“It’s okay,” Dimitri finally braved without meeting the heat of Felix’s gaze. He craned his head up and smiled at Sylvain, watching as the red head’s uneasy expression fell to that of utter shock.

Even now, after all these years, Dimitri can still find small surprises in his companions, and he nodded shortly. “I can handle things here, Sylvain. Uncle trained me for a reason, right?. Besides, you know the Foundation is just funding and scholarship work—nothing like a big hard corporation. It will probably be allocating more money for low-income university students and supporting the orphanages. Maybe, if we could get some of those eastern tech companies on board, establish an official internship partnership for stem students. You know—the usual.”

“I know, but---”

“And I have Dedue with me. He’ll help around as best he can.”

“I suppose so…,” Sylvain looked off to Felix and smiled in a warm, fuzzy endearment. “A year would be nice. I hear they’ll open up the hot springs in the winter too.”

The dark-haired man nodded without smiling back, even if the corners of his mouth twitched slightly. “Exactly. Dimitri here is a grown man—he is going to be fine without us. Now, why don’t you go back upstairs and pack those _special_ oils you got online.”

Sylvain’s amber eyes widened and the red head stumbled back with his face as bright as a thousand suns—radiant with a summer’s warmth. Dimitri held back a laugh, even as the man stuttered something strange in a language neither of them has ever heard of before, followed by a quickened blur and the loud flurry of steps racing up the steps. Overhead, there was a crash—followed by a mild groan, and a continued desperation into the bedroom.

A low sigh came out from Felix; he sprayed his fingers up along his forehead and approached Dimitri in a slow saunter. And, as Dimitri had been anticipating, the reluctant exterior of harshness and a biting nature unveiled itself like a flower in bloom, and there came the flashes of tenderness, which was only shown in rare moments of privacy.

“Thank you again for this. You know he’s surprisingly dedicated to you so I appreciate the aid,” Felix mumbled as he knelt down near the suitcase, picking up all the clothes on the ground. His eyes, always burning with sunsets, was drawn down to the rug and naturally avoided Dimitri’s smiling gaze.

“Well, he’s more dedicated to you than anything else. I’m sure if you pushed hard enough, he would have caved.”

“I know, but then he’ll start feeling guilty and I don’t need _that_ in Sreng.” Felix paused, staring off at a pair of Sylvain’s boxers—happy foxes. Without a moment of hesitation, the dark-haired man flung it to the side, under a table, and Dimitri snickered.

It was only a month ago that Sylvain and Felix finally tied the knot after five years—and perhaps even longer based on what the latter kept implying to fill in the blanks of Dimitri’s mind. Tragically, what was meant to be a happy affair was soon cut short when Rufus suddenly collapsed a few days after.

After that, the rest was simply a dark passing dream, which Dimitri woke up on the other end—a month had already left him, his uncle was dead, the family’s company was his now, and his two married friends have yet to take their honeymoon after dealing with an utterly slow mourning period.

Dimitri knew the pair did not mind rescheduling, especially in light of the latter’s new position as the Blaiddyd Foundation’s President. However, just the sight of Felix moving to fold Sylvain’s collared shirts and pants into their suitcase sent a sharp tinge in Dimitri’s heart, one that traveled so far up his spine to his skull that he could feel another episode coming.

“How...are you doing by the way? You know, since your uncle.” Felix asked with a surprisingly tender and gentle tone.

“It’s an adjustment,” Dimitri replied honestly and rubbed the sides of his head as a headache broke through.

**You cried last night, remember?**

“Oh, I’m sure. With the company and all, it probably feels overwhelming. And now you have to attend that disgusting gala at the end of the month with all those blue-blood parasites. I don’t know how your uncle was able to go to those things every year—I don’t think I’ll even manage ten minutes with those rats.”

“Maybe it won’t be that bad. I hear it’s just drinking and mingling in the Gloucester Gardens…”

“Mingling? _Sure_.” Felix flung down a pair of hot pink pants under the table and shook his head, the dark of his long hair falling over his eyes. “Dimitri, don’t be fucking stupid, that’s how they size you up! Get a sense of your weakness. Eastern Fódlan is ruthless with business and I bet you that they would even sell their own mothers just to get ahead. And you’re fresh meat—the prime entree.”

“I’ll be fine,” Dimitri croaked weakly; he rose from the ground and instinctively searched for the bottle of pills he kept nearby on the coffee table. The throbbing pain that flushed through his head sloshed so loudly, he could hear water dripping from the top of his skull.

Dimitri grabbed the bottle—Dr. Arnim’s name printed on the side—bold and comforting as such was her brand to him, and he took two tablets with a dry swallow. This had been Dimitri’s ritual for the last five years. Despite the age, it still felt so new everything he raced for that medicine with a thirsty desperation. With every swallow, he momentarily returned to his first memories of the world—a white, loveless hospital room and a sleeping boy at his side. Everything before that, an echo, which he could not hear.

“...Headaches again?”

**Are you listening to me---**

“Like you wouldn’t believe...”

“Hm. Will Dedue be with you?” Felix changed the subject quickly with his gaze still kept on the white pill bottle clenched in the larger man’s hand.

“Naturally,” Dimitri said and sat back on the ground, a bit closer to the dark haired man as if nothing ever happened. “He won’t let anything bad happen to me, not that I’m expecting anything from proper men and women of business. But worry not—I won’t be going in completely blind.”

“By the goddess, you’re going to go see _him_ , aren’t you?”

The remark upset Dimitri slightly and his mouth turned downward into a dark frown.

“Felix, he’s been a good source of reliable information for years. It was because of him that I didn’t end up getting tricked by all of uncle’s past associates who wanted me gone.”

“Oh, I know,” Felix replied solemnly and rubbed the bridge of his nose, adding rather urgently. “He’s just an enigma. And his crew, well, I simply don’t feel comfortable with you going down there every time.”

“They won’t hurt me. Even Ashe used to work with him.”

“ _Used_ to. Remember that line well, Dimitri.”

“Oh, you worry too much, Felix. I’ll be fine and I’ll be prepared for the upcoming Round Table Talk,” Dimitri explained in a more milder tone to match Felix’s growing exasperation. Despite the dark-haired man’s rather sullen nature, he has proven to be surprisingly mother hen at moments—always so ready to fret and dote even if he did not realize it. Though it was never without reason and Dimitri knew Felix had a greater sense of caution in their unwanted world of cutthroat business and economics.

And they both knew about Eastern Fódlan's reputation.

“Will you be inquiring about all the people in attendance?” Felix asked quietly, eyes dead centered on Dimitri’s.

“Yes—just to see who I’ll be interacting with. All of uncle’s executives only given me what they experienced at face value, that the corporationsof the Round Table are incredibly savvy and ruthless. But other than that, everyone doesn’t know what to expect from the upcoming talk. And I have a terrible personality for business.”

“ _Clearly_. Even I am feeling strange for leaving you, but if you say that you can handle it…”

“I can. Have some trust in me, Felix. Please,” Dimitri pleaded in a tender and trembling voice, suddenly feeling eighteen again—everyone hovering over him like a lost and confused child. It had been a long time since then, and Dimitri had made it a strong point to push against these surfacing behaviors from his own friends and family.

Felix was no exception.

The dark-haired man sighed, defeated, and touched his forehead. “I do, I do. But if you need anything, you have our numbers,” he said curtly with the same usual hint of affection.

“As if I’ll contact you two during your honeymoon.”

“Still, you know what I mean, Dimitri.”

“I know.”

“Hm.” Felix craned his neck over and peered at the larger man, a strangely crooked and bitter smile slit across his face. “You’ve grown much more...confident these last few years.”

“Is that a good thing?” Dimitri asked cautiously.

“Could be. Too much of it can be a disease, but for you, it’s a welcome change than how you used to be.”

Dimitri was silent for a moment and then replied very lowly:

“Does it ever feel like you’re talking to another person?”

“Hardly,” Felix said without feeling. He went back to folding clothing, impassioned and slow. “You always been you, even without your memories. Don’t get the impression that you’re any different without them.”

“Hah. I feel like I have known you my entire life.”

“You have, Boar. And don’t you forget that.”

Suddenly, something loud and furious pounded down the steps until Sylvain staggered at the bottom of the steps. The red head’s face matched his hair, breathing heavily with a mixture of excitement and confusion as he showcased what Dimitri could only described as a collection of aromatherapy oils of different colors and pictures.

“I-I didn’t know how many you wanted me to bring so I brought everything.”

“Well.” Felix clicked his tongue and tilted his head. “That will last a year, alright.”

“Oh, are you two trying out some therapy oils?” Dimitri asked innocently.

When his two companions turned around and gawked at him, reddened and nervous, Dimitri realized the exact purpose of the bottles in Sylvain’s arms and joined them in their flustered state.

“Oh.” He covered his mouth and looked away in his usual shame. “ _Oh_.”

_______________________________

In the weeks after Felix and Sylvain departed for Sreng for their honeymoon, Dimitri had already confirmed and set up his place at the head of the Blaiddyd Foundation.

Perhaps it was the five years going along with his late uncle on long business trips, watching the man transform from a quiet guardian to something akin to a cold businessman at work. The Foundation was strangely humanitarian, established by Dimitri’s grandfather back in the day as a way to funnel money back into the economy and support Northern Fódlan's slowing aid with research institutions.

Of course, Rufus had transformed it into a national scholarship and aid for university students of low income families with the preserved angle of aiding federal institutions and industries around the country. Naturally, this forced the Foundation to collaborate closely with corporations as a national loan house of some sorts.

Tragically, this also meant Dimitri had to get used to a mixture of ass-kissing and bribery from different officials over the years, and suddenly, the young boy without any memories had realized why his uncle Rufus adopted a cold exterior every time he went to work: it’s harder to pull a fast one over a frightening, stark northerner than a figure of warm compassion.

Naturally, Dimitri was considered a poor follower of this philosophy, having been considered “too soft” as an heir when he was just a boy. Naturally, he had grown up tall and strong since then, even taller than Sylvain. The man had adopted a sort of signature family gaze—cold and icy, with the right amount of tranquil fury that left many people fumbling over their words. He also made it a point to add Felix, Sylvain, and Ingrid into his personal council and they proved to be oddly successful in their respective personalities.

Felix was a renowned ‘hard ass’, often regarded as Dimitri’s head advisor without a shred of mercy or regard for emotion. He was hardly swayed by sob stories from clients and became easily angered over more manipulative business executives who made their way to Fhirdiad in the hopes of taking advantages of the Foundation’s heir. The raven-haired man always shot back and was known to turn the tables on negotiations through simple, brutal honesty, even against Dimitri himself.

Sylvain was the Head of Acquisitions, and despite his now married status, was something of a notorious flirt. He spoke with honey-coated words, moved with an abstract mastery of body language, and knew exactly how to read people. Dimitri found him useful for personal client meetings for this exact reason with the red head often leading them through appropriate places of comfort such as bars and restaurants.

Ingrid’s role was perhaps, as everyone concluded, was the most important. She was smart, she was wise, and she handled much of the Foundation’s accounts. The woman kept track of all of the funds leaving and which institutions it was going to, often watching for any signs of fraud or manipulation. In such cases, Ingrid approached situations with an extreme logic and common sense, and secured the general financial power of the company.

Then there was Dedue—Dimitri’s great shadow. Where Dimitri went, he went, and the large imposing man from Duscur made it very clear to all visitors and clients that any ‘slips of the hand’ were not tolerated. In fact, his constant presence always made Dimitri feel stronger and he hardly worried about dealing with any secretive figures.

But now, for the first time, Dimitri felt alone. Felix and Sylvain would be gone for an entire year, and Ingrid had gone down to Enbarr to settle some financial misuse of funding by the Mittlefrank Opera House and is not expected to return a month later.

It was just Dedue and Dimitri left, not that neither of them could complain. Though with Dimitri as the head of the Foundation, the workload was expected to triple in size, especially with the possible alliance with the Round Table corporations.

Dimitri could only hope.

When Rufus was still alive, the man never made any steps to reach out to the Eastern Fódlan companies—he did not trust them. But he did make it a point to attend every Round Table Talk held every year at the Gloucester estate, as expected of most big industries.

However, as Dimitri figured, it was more so a contest of show and a way to check out the competition behind a glass of wine. Of course, it took everyone off when the heir openly announced his desire to connect with the Round Table; they were financial giants, produced most of Fódlan's most important resources, and dominated the international market in technology, military, and stock. If Dimitri could make some friends there, perhaps he would be able to establish tighter, more supportive scholarships in different fields like stem and business.

But those were only dreams and Dimitri was all a dreamer, not a thinker.

Someone else usually helped him with that and that was the Foundation President’s greatest secret.

_______________________________

In the shadowed world of dim bars characterized by low, deliberate gestures, furtive looks over the shoulder, the ever-climbing veil of smoke from an abandoned ashtray, and the oppressive, shared feeling of unwant and masked loneliness, Dimitri was nothing short but a trespasser—a stranger in a world of strangers, but one who was not lost.

Fhirdiad was a city that only existed at night. It was asleep during the day with just the slow crawl of commerce in the jutting blue-steel skyscrapers, which shined under the far-away sun. However, it was the night where the entire city fell under a rainy haze and the stark glow of blue and purple neon.

Dance clubs beat into life with long and often hostile lines, the bars were loud with drunks usually thrown out in the never-ending drizzle, and the shadowy figures in the back—all manner of vices of street racing, drug smuggling, and other under-the-table operations occurred behind the backs of the corrupt police system.

A person like Dimitri who, in the last five years, lived in the solace of the northern countryside—in the utter quiet of red Duscurian flowers and a smokey sky, never was able to adjust to Fhirdiad. Apparently, this was the place of his birth, but it did not feel like it; the city rejected him—it cursed him; the mother did not want the child.

It was like this every time he stalked down the cold streets—black raincoat shielding his face from the numerous amounts of magazines and screens that showcased his official company profile: a mask with golden hair and slated eyes of blue—the reflection of a stranger.

And Dimitri disappeared; out of sight, out of mind. As though he never existed.

The Ashen Wolf was the very last place for anyone of good standing to be, and yet, Dimitri felt the most comfortable here than any other place in Fhirdiad. Located in the deepest parts of the city, through the twists and turns of alleyways, empty parking lots covered in sticky newspapers and broken syringes, and once-operational factories, was the Ashen Wolf—a bar, but not in the way of customers. This was a place meant for shadows and people without names, and Dimitri had a name: it was plastered all over the screens like the coming of death.

Dimitri kept his head low as he went down the steps, careful in not slipping on the puddles, and turned the corner to the familiar sight of the purple door. _He_ was there again, as he had been every night—The Guard Dog. The Bouncer.

A giant of six foot six inches of pure muscle mass and the darkened hair of a barbarian; he stood dutifully by the door, solid arms crossed over a thick chest, marked with a thousand stories of fighting with broke-glass armed drunks and gangbangers.

The first time Dimitri was brought to the Ashen Wolf, he witnessed first hand a poor man’s hand smashed like an egg against the cement, brought on by a gigantic hand and a strength to match his. The Bouncer briefly looked up from his assault and stared wide-eyed at the boy—this absolute child a few feet away, wearing a _wool cardigan_ and _round glasses_.

“Your majesty,” Balthus uttered deeply like a bad spell. He sniffed loudly, rubbed under his nose, and inspected Dimitri with his usual eye of curiosity— _you don’t belong here_ , he first said five years ago to the boy in blue. And he still meant it. “You’re here for pleasure or business?”

“Does it matter?” Dimitri replied offhandedly and met with the bouncer’s grating stare.

“Hm. I suppose not—it’s always option A for the boss man when you come around.” Balthus stepped back and opened the door, revealing the ever-long dark descent deeper into a bottomless pit. He gestured simply with a nod. “Go on ahead and try to keep your hood up. I don’t want to deal with a ruckus just because some drunk recognized you.”

“Thank you.” A single bill, enough to pay rent was slipped between the bouncer’s thick fingers, and Dimitri made his descent into that aching, smoldering darkness.

And out the other end, through the curtain, was the fringes of the underground world which _he_ ruled unquestionably and mercilessly—the Abyss, the shadow criminal underworld of Fódlan. Not Northern Fódlan, not Southern Fódlan, but Fódlan in its entirety: north, south, and east. And their headquarters was an underground bar filled with rapists, drug smugglers, petty killers, hackers, and all manners of hidden figures, all convened under a _D- in health and safety_ sign.

Just barely passing.

No one looks up when Dimitri walks into the smoke-filled bar. They all keep to themselves and their groups, huddled up the small corners with low murmurs of malevolence and underlying business slipping past their heavy lips.

Among its patrons are the seedy, the restless, the hardened, and all characters who traveled between the networks of north, south, and east of Abyss—tunnel rats they called themselves. In the far end of the bar, on a makeshift stage, was the resident songstress, Flower of the Abyss— _an annoying plant growing from a pile of shit_ , Balthus once told Dimitri.

Constance.

She was neither a bad or good singer from what it seemed, but merely hitting all the wrong _and_ right notes at different intervals.

No one calls her out on this since the night she clawed a patron’s eyes out with her nails.

As the ‘Flower’ pleasantly screeched to a song to the absolute void of the smoky space with just a few mumbles of acknowledgment, Dimitri takes a seat at the empty bar where two men are talking rather loudly in the corner.

“Word has it that the boss man is watching after the upcoming Talk happening this month,” said a dark-haired man as he peered around the counter for the non-present bartender.

“He’s watched the Talk every year, what’s so special about this year?” Asked his companion, feigning a clear nonchalance.

“Fresh blood, my friend. Fresh blood,” he stated, propping skinny red elbow on the edge of the counter, allowing it to hang limply down, revealing a trail of scars and marks along the skin. “All those mega corporations got new leaders now—rich boy sons taking over their daddies’ empires. Boss wants to observe the silver spoon brats at the Talk, see what he can find.” The man’s fingers clinked all along his empty glass, somewhat intrigued. “Gloucester, Goneril, Edmund, Riegan, they’re all gonna be there.”

“Blaiddyd’s gonna be there too.”

“Man, that kid’s gonna get chewed up like gum. No way Gloucester is just gonna let him walk in there unscathed. Senior Gloucester is a ruthless bastard—his son is worse, apparently.”

The companion clicked his tongue and shook his head, dismissive. “Man, my eyes are on Riegan. If anyone is a crafty, backstabbing cunt, it’s him.”

“You think all the poisoning rumors are true?”

“If that’s that case then Blaiddyd---”

“Didi.”

Dimitri looked up from his hands and met with the eternally weary and exasperated gaze of the Ashen Wolf’s bartender, Hapi. The woman, flushing red hair and eyes, blinked at him with a slight notion of welcome and even _pleasure_ before gesturing to the shelves of oddly colored drinks behind her.

“The Lilac Bird,” Dimitri stated automatically.

“Lilac Bird. Coming right up,” Hapi stated with a nod.

She made a show to slip down below the counter for a prolonged moment—a click—before emerging back up with a small glass, which she held as an afterthought. Hapi started preparing the drink in front of him with each movement, utterly slow and deliberate as if she was waiting on something.

“It’s been a while, Didi.”

“Yes, it has,” Dimitri muttered and kept his eye down to his hands.

Hapi always sounded bored with everything; bored with the bar, bored with making drinks, bored with him. The truth was that her work beyond just pouring liquids in a glass was much more cynical in nature—a canary in a mine, calling out when poison seeps into the air.

Whatever she does for the Abyss, Dimitri does not know. And he did not need to know, by the woman’s own words. So he always kept his head down and gaze elsewhere as she spoke.

“Word has it that you’re the king now.”

“Where you hear that?”

“Don’t make me laugh. I’ll spill the drinks.” Hapi stated as though she were reciting from a book. She began to violently shake the metal roller with the sounds of loud sloshing being overtaken by Constance’s operatic high pitch.

“He’s been watching your progress.”

“He’s always watching my progress. He watches everyone’s progress.”

“He likes _yours_ the most.” Hapi stopped and poured the drink into the glass; the ball of ice spun around an extremely cool liquid of purple with the physical swirls of syrup dance along the colors in mystic patterns. The woman pushed the drink to Dimitri’s still hand and offered a rare smile.

“Finish it in one gulp. I hear it can be quite _upsetting_ to the stomach so be sure to head the bathroom.”

“Thank you,” Dimitri croaked weakly and immediately down the purple drink in one go.

After all these years, he still drinks it, even with the knowledge of it’s true, sinister nature. The slow drip of absolute purple ‘syrup’ slipped down his throat and Dimitri forced-swallowed it all down like thick, thick cough medicine. Once the glass is completely empty, the man got up slowly and waved to Hapi before heading to where bathrooms were situated in the back hallway.

As he went down that stretch, he spotted a shadowed man—an escort, awaiting by the main doors. He peered over to Dimitri with a wary eye and held out a hand.

“Did you order the Lilac Bird?”

“Yes,” Dimitri grunted and even stuck his tongue out, coated in purple syrup as proof.

The man nodded at the sight. “Ah, well you best come with me to our _private_ bathroom in the far back. We don’t want you stinking up our public ones with your puke.”

“Lead on, friend.”

And so, Dimitri walked into the deepest ring of the Abyss, leaving all behind that is good and light until he was completely submerged into the darkness. Unrecognizable.

_______________________________

Yuri was there.

He sat in the center of the room, on his throne, surrounded by smoke, the faint swell of whiskey, and metallic sensation of pure coin. When Dimitri was let into the room with the door shut tightly—locked behind him, he was finally able to catch a glimpse of the king in all of his low lighting and ash-veiled glory.

After five years, Yuri still had an enormous power over stealing away one’s sight in the most euphoric way and Dimitri was no exception. An extraordinarily beautiful man: lilac wavy hair, a thin delicate face, amethyst eyes like two polished gems in the ring, and skin as soft as silk. His thin, pink lips pursed into a smile—not a smirk, but a smile.

And with a long finger, he beckoned for Dimitri to come forward, the other hand patting the small area beside him.

A snake to its charmer; Dimitri obeyed without realizing it—dancing to the simplest gestures. And before the man knew it, he had settled down right next to Yuri on the lounge chair, just close enough where their knees brushed up against each other.

Clients were supposed to sit across the Abyss’ King.

“Dima~ It’s been quite a while since you paid me a visit,” Yuri said in a teasing voice; it came out between his lips like a melody, drifting between the smoke trails emerging from the ash tray on the coffee table, until it faded away with just an after feeling.

The man brought his delicate hand up, brushing his pale fingers along Dimitri’s cold cheek in a teasing motion; Dimitri gently took Yuri’s hand into his, cradling it like a priceless artifact, and kissed the top of it—he’s long danced to this song before and tonight was no different.

“Hm,” Yuri hummed, pleased by the gesture, and retracted his hand down toward Dimitri’s knee instead. “Now, now, why has the king from above come to visit the one down below? I don’t suppose you miss me at all.”

“I do miss you,” Dimitri said without a beat. “But I’m here because I need information.”

“Ah, how typical. But I don’t mind seeing that handsome face of yours at all considering how you’ve been _avoiding_ me,” the lilac-haired man remarked with a bit of a sharpened laugh in his voice.

Yuri LeClerc was the King of the Abyss, the ruler of Fódlan's greatest underground network of espionage from the neon streets of Fhirdiad to the sugar-white beaches of Derdriu. Only few on the surface were aware of the Abyss’ existence and even then, they were still convinced of their own skepticism. People pass frantic echoes and whispers of shadows listening in on every word, reading every text, recording every meeting, and at the center of this great national web of information and lies was the King.

And those who did know about the Abyss were either apart of it or went to it for ‘special services’ be it all manner of terrible desires: sex, murder, fraud, and especially forbidden information. And very few knew the King up close and personal. In fact, Yuri was not even his real name—that information was priceless.

Despite his breathtaking beauty, Yuri was a wicked, ugly man—a ghost who revels in his ability to frighten and terrorize those who come into his house, and that was the entire country.

His legend was running through the streets, from the very top of the skyscrapers at the table of spooked investors whose secrets could mean life or death to an empire, to the very bottom of a broken man’s glass at a lone bar—echoes of his reign were either fought over by hardcore skeptics like the police or accepted and brooded over by the tycoons.

Yuri’s legend was, in Dimitri’s opinion, appropriately built over time. from a simple shadowy figure collecting global secrets to running a nationwide sex trafficking ring to outright drug smuggling into the inner cities from Sreng, Albinea, and Almyra.

That the King of the Abyss singlehandedly brought the crime rate up in all three major cities of the north, east, and south by twenty percent from their respective statistics; murder, rape, and drug trafficking—across the entire police federal commissioner report board.

And the tragedy was that it was all completely true.

Even after five years, Dimitri learned to keep a respectable and cordial air with Yuri for the reasons that the man was very much afraid of what the lilac beauty was capable of. He always maintained a thin ward between him and Yuri, learning to keep his tongue back and all of his criticisms in a locked box somewhere deep in his mind.

Unfortunately, Yuri obtained the key a long, long time ago and the man absolutely loved to invade Dimitri’s bubble and unlock all of his thoughts. What was a desperate attempt to keep a connection between a businessman and a dark, seedy figure of the underworld, professional and distant was destroyed by Yuri’s sadism—a need to bring forth a twisted, dangerous game between them.

What made it worse was the fact that Dimitri was completely aware that it was completely directed at him and there was nothing he could do about it.

The man inhaled sharply, his broad chest and stiff shoulders rising up with pressure, and he breathed out of his mouth—Dimitri could feel Yuri’s dark gaze to his lips, and he shifted away politely.

“The Round Table Talk is coming up soon at the end of the month and---” he stopped as a thin finger was pressed to his trembling lips.

“Say no more,” Yuri stated. He held up a folder with his other hand, filled with various papers and clippings poking out from the flaps: Information. The man smiled, shining like a knife beneath a dim light, and flicked his wrist gently from side to side. “Oh, Dima...Did you think I didn’t know? I always know. And I was ready for you to come.”

“Please don’t misunderstand—I’m not trying to sabotage any of my rivals. But I’m exactly comfortable going in there unprepared,” Dimitri stated softly.

“Of course not. The Round Table is but a garden of beasts! And despite that scary face of yours, you’re still a little bird, aren’t you? And birds should at least know where they’re flying to, right? Well, sad for you, I’m not feeling very kind right now.”

“Yuri, _please_.”

“Ah, I love it when you beg,” Yuri laughed out, a bit cruel, a bit hurtful.

He tilted his head down, coy, with a hypnotizing gaze and a cynical grin. He was not happy—Dimitri was aware of this. The man was not usually so slighted by him, but whatever Dimitri had done or _failed_ to do must have deeply upset him.

“Dima, you know my information is never free, even for you. But all I ask is that you take the time to come see me once in a while, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri said automatically, knowing that it’s the only right answer.

Yuri was a man enlightened in his absolute duality when it came to the art of conversation; there was a wrong answer and there was a right answer, and Dimitri knew he was already in thin ice.

The lilac haired man sighed as his usual dramatics. “You always say that and I’m starting to feel tired of this song we keep dancing too.”

“I don’t know what else to tell you, Yuri...”

“Dimitri, it’s like you don’t even _like_ coming around here.”

“I don’t.” He paused and sucked air sharply through his gritted teeth. “You _know_ this.”

An impulsive answer.

The tips of the scales Dimitri worked to hard to keep balance began to tilt, and the one sitting at the bottom pulled back his thin lips and revealed the white of his teeth: sardonic and sullen. And suddenly, Dimitri felt what most people felt coming through the Ashen Wolf to have a private audience with Yuri: vulnerable and very, very small.

“Why? Because you don’t belong here? That you can’t handle my realm of business? What, should I pop on a fancy five grand suite and come meet you at the 100th level of Fhirdiad Tower, hm? Or should we have tea and frolic back at your uncle’s place like in the old days? Well, what is it?”

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri said once again, keeping his eyes down as Yuri drew close. “I think it’s the stress...you know...”

“Right, cause you’re the King now,” the lilac man said humorlessly. All the laughter faded from his pretty face and Yuri leaned back on his throne, showing off a professional coldness with a cordial air. “I should have taken that into consideration. Fine, you’re off the hook for now, but another move like that and I’ll consider it an insult.”

“Sorry.’”

“No more of that now. You came for information; I have information. And there is a price.”

Dimitri’s stomach dropped and his cheeks flushed slightly. “H-How much?”

“Depends. Do you want to get mauled alive by people you’ll have to deal with for the rest of your career?” Yuri went back to smiling; his mask was on again. “This folder contains just about everything from personal histories to even hidden scandals on their operations in case you wanna play a ‘hand’ in poker.”

“I don’t play poker.”

“Good—you would be an awful player.” Yuri remarked and slapped the folder on the coffee table with a loud thump. Seeing it laid out between them in full view, Dimitri could guess that there were nearly one hundred pages worth of secrets on nearly every CEO of the Round Table—all of whom had openly voiced their opposition for Dimitri’s succession. Secrets, which were probably incredibly grievous in obtaining and extremely expensive in passing over—perhaps even more than Dimitri could reasonably afford.

“Let’s see here...Gloucester, Edmund, Goneril, Ordelia, Acheron, Daphnel, Riegan...ah, that’s nearly all of the Round Table. So, let’s say...” Yuri clicked his tongue and knocked his head back and forth in feigned thought: he already knew the price and Dimitri was growing finicky under this twisted game. “Twenty-five million dollars and ninety-nine cents.”

Dimitri felt himself swallow unconsciously—the sickly feeling of his own spit being forced down a tight throat, and he nodded to the oppressively smoke air, lucidly. “Twenty-five million.”

“And ninety-nine cents,” Yuri added nonchalantly and peered at his nails, bored.

“I...I think I can make a transfer from my personal account again…”

“As usual, you’re not even thinking of touching the Foundation’s funds? At your rate, you’ll be the world’s poorest CEO.”

“No, that’s strictly for the company,” Dimitri mumbled and took out his check book.

Every visit with Yuri resulted in the pages growing thinner and thinner with the reminder pages showcasing Dimitri’s spending jumping back and forth in the thousands to millions. At this rate, he will be poor not that he minded in the slightest. However, before Dimitri could flip to the next blank check, Yuri’s smooth hand passed over his, and he looked up.

“Twenty-Five million is no joke, Dimitri,” Yuri said in a careful tone. “And for a reason: that folder took me years to composite and I lost hundreds of spies and whistle blowers in the process of obtaining it. It’s not like simple transaction we used to do in the past, where you just asked up on different corrupt executives of the Foundation or even the North. It’s not just the money alone.”

Dimitri nodded very slowly and chose not to talk. In his wisdom, Yuri smiled gently—almost human, and he scooted closer until he practically leaning off of the man’s broad shoulder, arm slipped in-between Dimitri’s until the long fingers of his hand touched his.

From this close up, Dimitri could see that the man was still as extremely beautiful as he always was, eyes graced with long elegant lashes and hair that smelled of lavender.

Dimitri felt dizzy in the euphoria.

“What more do you want?” He muttered foolishly.

“You _know_ what I want,” Yuri urged and his gaze went dark like the flick of a light switch. “Come now, you’ve been ignoring me for months—did you really think I won’t try this again, after all this time?”

Dimitri had been expecting this. With every visit came a natural dread, especially as Yuri drew closer and closer, invading the sanctuary of his ward. Ever since their first meeting, the King of the Abyss had not stopped in his clear intentions and all Dimitri could do is reject him every time. But hardly out of a lack of attraction for Yuri was always on the man’s mind, even in his sleep.

But the truth of the matter was: Yuri scared him.

There was something about the lilac-man with gem eyes and a maiden’s smile that threw Dimitri off and he could never achieve his balance around him. Something cold, cruel, and hungry. Something he could never comprehend because Yuri came from a loveless world in which he had to climb from the very bottom to reach the top, even if it meant indulging the unspeakable evils in the face of survival and success.

Yuri was clever, quick-witted, and thought in twos—one for his mouth to speak and the other for himself. Yuri was all that was dark and dangerous with not just the underworld but those who smile with blood-stained hands, without a notion of grief.

Yuri reminded Dimitri of someone, and the latter does not know who—someone who came the years beyond Dimitri’s awakening five years ago. And the one inside his head always told him to stay away.

Finally, after a moment where the only sounds in the room was breathing and the muffled sounds of Constance attempting to hit her high notes again from far above the basement, Dimitri hesitantly squeezed Yuri’s hand in reciprocation and closed his eyes

“Would you like to go out to dinner sometime?” He asked, trying to restrain his voice from sounding too close to a boy’s nervous asking for his crush to accompany him to the prom.

Yuri, however, expressed no such control as the brights of his eyes glowed and his sharp smile went loose with a bit of a laugh between his lips. “Dima, Dima—after five years, I thought you never asked. Shame it took some arm twisting for it to happen. Now I’m starting to feel like you don’t like me.”

“No, I---” The words got caught up in Dimitri’s throat and all he could let out is a strangled sound. Instead, he kept his mouth shut and stared down at how Yuri’s fingers was pale-white and slender, like marble even. It made Dimitri self conscious about the roughness of his hands, how they were covered in scars and discolored patches like a loosely-sewed together monster. “I wish I can say how I feel but…”

“I’m in no rush to hear it,” Yuri said pleasantly like wind-chime. He took out a small, clear vial from his pocket, filled a strange blue oil that sloshed around slowly. “Now, since we got that out of the way, why don’t you give me your usual farewell so you don’t start to get some...killing stomach aches later.”

_The Lilac Bird—Yuri’s ‘security’ deposit_

Dimitri’s stomach physically stirred upon hearing this, but not with pain. It raced, it rush, and something dark like bile spilled at the very base of it, clinging to the sides with an escalating heat. His mind was bouncing and yet, came out empty and mindless. He just nodded like a doll and Yuri leaned in close until their lips were inches apart.

“I really did miss you, my lion~”

Dimitri shuddered at the pet name. It, too, came from somewhere far off and endless like an undecipherable dream.

“And I wouldn’t want you to die now. Why don’t you a good boy and lap up the cute to my poison?” Yuri unbuckled his pants and grinned darkly as he took out his erect cock, glistening with precum at the twitching tip. “Kneel. And show your proper respects to the King of the realm in which you visited.”

Wordlessly and nearly with automatic precision, Dimitri got down on his knees. It was these moments where he could not recognize who he was anymore. It was like this subconscious need, which had long existed in the man, to be dominated and controlled with a loving roughness nearing rape. This swirling emptiness that needed to be filled by the physically violent love of another. And Dimitri was absolutely frightened of this other side of him.

Yuri’s laughter, loving and mean, rang out once again. He popped off the top of the antidote bottle and poured and the blue oil from the tip of his excited cock, gasping a bit as the hot sensation slowly dripped down the length in swirling, glistening trails. Dimitri’s breath quickened and his own cock pressed tightly against the rough fabric of his jeans.

“Go on now, king of the world above. Give the one who lives below your offerings of friendship,” he commanded in a foreign voice—that of a God.

A switch turned on; Dimitri leaned in immediately and ran his tongue from Yuri’s balls all the way to the top, tasting a mixture of cum and nectar—salty and sweet in one lick, and he made a physical show to swallow loudly while staring at Yuri with his one good eye.

The King of the Abyss was a hard man to please considering that Dimitri was sure that he had slept with nearly every important figure that crossed his path and has fucked his own ‘merchandise’ once in a while as a test run. But in those cases, Yuri was always bored. He fucked plainly, spoke plainly, and everything seemed plain to him as though he were forced to clean his room.

But, for some reason, Dimitri was different. Yuri’s face absolutely collapsed at the sight of the kneeling man before him, lapping at his cock with the thirst of a dehydrated dog. The lilac man’s mouth was curled in a wide, twisted grin with the corner showing off a bit of his sharp teeth. His eyes were so big and dark that Dimitri could hardly see the purple from where he was sitting.

Yuri was _excited._

He was enjoying the show, and watched the kneeling man with such a suffocating intensity that it practically stole the breath away from Dimitri’s lungs.

When he saw that mark of clear approval, he took Yuri’s length into his mouth and sucked eagerly—loudly, like a prized whore until the king exploded down his abused throat, sending both cum and the rest of the antidote into the pits of his stomach. Once Dimitri drank it all up with bits of cum dripping down his swollen lips, Yuri laughed again— _happy_ , and bent over to kiss Dimitri fully on the lips, tasting himself.

Here at the Abyss, one loses themselves. Or rather, they lose the mask from the world above and unveil their true faces in the dark. Faces contorted in greed, lust, hatred, and desire. The ones who pull the leash on wicked human vices—the masters, held that leash close and tight. And for Dimitri, Yuri held his leash for the last five years, patient in his tugging until it was too late to look away.

And at the back of Dimitri’s half-shot mind, she came out again. Her voice echoing and bounding without an audience—just a colorless horizon without the sea.

**You have fucking shitty taste in men, Dimitri.**

_______________________________

 _A boy had come across a broken bird_ _in an alleyway._

_It was lying in a puddle of blood and rain water with its wings broken and neck turned halfway in the water._

_The boy_ _picked up the bird, wrapped it in a towel, put it in a box, and took it home with him. And for the next few weeks._ _He_ _mended_ _the creature_ _back to life._

_He brought it food, gave it medicine, fixed its wings, and even bathed it personally until its purple feathers was a deep and vibrant violet._

_When it was time for that bird to fly away, the boy in all of his_ _childish wonder and innocence_ _, gave it a kiss on its beak and let it free._

_It was not long before that bird returned._

_And it revealed itself to be a prince from a kingdom down below._

_______________________________

Dimitri hurried back to Fhirdiad Tower, the city’s tallest skyscraper of blue glass which jutted up over field of neon lights and into the paling night skyline. It was the center point of the Blaiddyd Foundation or, as the locals would call it, “a shiny monolith that shit money”. And they were hardly wrong.

While business ran as usual during the day with all one hundred floors bustled with phone calls, video conferences, meetings on all sectors, at night, it was Dimitri’s only sanctuary in the entire city. It stood in the center of Fhirdiad and reflected every single light including those in the sky, radiating like so visibly in a unification of colors that visitors can see it from the fast highways passing over the Tailtean Plains and beyond.

It was here in an empty, sleepy tower that Dimitri was finally able to breath in a city that sought so desperately to suffocate and choke him; he fell against his chair—once his uncle’s, and stared out dimly at the entire dazzling city from the top of his throne.

Here he could see millions of stars: blue, purple, and magenta, and they all merged into one another, swirling—pulsing—glowing with life. The black cell towers in the far back where the city began to thin out to the outskirts beeped red every five seconds and Dimitri counted them in his head as he smelled a familiar warmth flood his office.

“Chamomile?”

“What else could it be?” A deep voice answered kindly from behind him.

Dimitri spun around in his chair and met with the cool gaze of his longtime companion and brother, Dedue. The large man stood in between the borders of darkness and light, with half of his strong face still hiding in the shadows from the far side of the room.

He merely nodded in greeting and gestured to the silver tray he had place on the desk: a cup of steaming tea and a piece of cheesecake. Dimitri knew his diet was rather strange but it hardly mattered since he could never taste anything for some unexplained reason; Dedue often told him that he used to, but that was in a time before his five years of awakening.

“Thank you, Dedue,” Dimitri said, taking in the cup and feeling the warmth flood deep into his hands. He closed his eyes and smelled in the chamomile before sipping the hot tea—he couldn’t even taste it but the smell was enough to calm him down.

“Is that it?” The other man asked, nodding to the folder resting untouched on the desk. He took a seat right across from Dimitri and stared at it with an unreadable expression.

“Yeah, but he lowered the price by half though so it was manageable.”

“He always lowers the price by half. Why does he keep doing that?”

Dimitri’s face reddened and he hoped that it didn’t show in the pale darkness of his office. “Nothing to worry about Dedue. What matters is that I have my information now. Perhaps I’ll be able to survive the Round Table Talk coming up.”

Dedue made a small sound in his throat, one that implied very light agreement, and his pale blue eyes slowly riveted upward and hovered around Dimitri’s very still and absent face. He was always so observant, especially to Dimitri. It was like that of an older brother’s regard for a troubled younger sibling, hovering near and attentive borne out of a grave worry, and Dimitri often wondered if this was the result of his ‘past’ self.

Whatever he had done in the years beyond the five years must have cast a deep impression on Dedue for the man never left his side, only relenting when Dimitri went out of his way to beg. Such as the case whenever he went off to the Ashen Wolf and the Abyss.

“Then it’s best you study up then, Dimitri. From what your executives have been saying, many of the new heads—particularly Gloucester, are unhappy for your arrival.” Dedue tilted his head as if to absorb a thought. “He believes your presence may stop the flow of funding to industries in the east.”

“And he’s right to think so. There’s other businesses and institutes in Fódlan that actually need the money like the orphanages in Enbarr. Eastern Fódlan’s finances are millions of dollars ahead of both us and Southern Fódlan—they can take care of themselves,” Dimitri grunted roughly, remembering his own volatile reaction to their inner market readings a few months ago. The Round Table’s money alone could fuel Eastern Fódlan alone as it’s own country-state.

“Beware of your speech, Dimitri. You’re not going to the Talk to make enemies—you’re trying to win the alliance over, remember?” Dedue advised wisely. The man reached over and nudged the fat folder closer to Dimitri’s side of the table. “You have the key in front of you. Best you take this night to study everything and prepare for the upcoming week.”

“Thank you, Dedue. Oh, and I should mention something important: I kinda became...romantically involved.”

“Oh?” The Duscurian man cocked his head every so slightly with his pale eyes wide with surprise.

“Uh, just an old friend you have not met before,” Dimitri said, swiveling his head to the side to shield the sheepishness on his face. Everyone in his inner circle knew who ‘he’ was—not by name, however, since Dimitri wisely kept that to himself. Nor have they met physically met Yuri or seen the Ashen Wolf. No, everyone simply understood that Dimitri had an information broker and appropriately treated this fact with a mixture of disdain and caution.

“Do you like him?” Dedue asked, not out of interest but a deep seeded regard for Dimitri’s ‘old friend’.

The blonde man felt the oily bile of their earlier activity crawl up the pit of his stomach and he swallowed audibly. “He—” **Scares you** “—excites me. But I trust him wholly.”

Dedue nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Very well then. As long as you are happy, Dimitri.”

“I am. Now, would you let me see to this folder for the rest of the evening? This will take quite some time to look over so you may head home.”

“Of course. Remember: there is a driver out in the front waiting for you whenever you need to leave.”

“Thank you again, Dedue. And please, give Ashe my regards.”

Dedue blinked rapidly; a bit of pink glowing beneath the dark of the man’s skin, and very slowly, he nodded without an expression. Once the larger man departed the room and his footsteps were out of earshot down the hallway, Dimitri took the bound folder into his hands.

It was the size of a modern dictionary, with colored tabs highlighting each individual company—alphabetized in order as well. If there was one thing Dimitri could commend Yuri on, it was his need for organization and order, especially with sold information.

Most of the time, clients preferred things on a USB drive though it was Yuri himself who advised Dimitri against it—better to burn after reading without a trace. Of course, that would imply that the person reading was a good student and would absorb the information with the appropriate care.

Dimitri popped two pills into his mouth, took of his suit, and prepared for a very long study session with just the harsh light of his desk lamp as company. For this reason alone, he felt strangely _young_ again and he did not know why.

_______________________________

 **Gloucester Incorporated** **™**

**Current President and CEO (2XXX)** – Lorenz Hellman Gloucester (See CEO Profile after this section)

 **Est.** **Net Worth** – 70 Billion Dollars (sales nearly 80 billion)

 **Assets (Privately Owned or Public)** – Kirsten Family (Public), Victor Caravans Inc (Public), Acheron Holdings (Private)

 **Total Value of Assets (Unreported)** – 50 Billion (Stored off shore)

 **Company Market Production** – Technology and Engineering

 **Company Status** – Active

 **Scandals/Lawsuits (Resolved or Unresolved)** –

 _2XXX Fódlan vs Gloucester Inc,_ regarding rumors on illegally selling Almyra AI blueprints (Resolved: *Paid Off Supreme Court Officials – see Printed Evidence Below)

 _2XXX Kirsten Family vs Gloucester Inc_ , regarding the allegations on deliberate sabotage of Family assets (Resolved: Forced Kirsten Family into bankruptcy and purchased it as a part of Gloucester Inc.)

 _2XXX Victor Caravans Inc vs Gloucester Inc_ , regarding the allegations on deliberate sabotage of Inc Trade Routes and monopolization of market (Resolved: Victor Caravans Inc dropped the case without explanation and was resolved into Gloucester Inc after declaring Bankruptcy)

2XXX – 2XXX Minor lawsuits regarding under-the-table trades and outscoring of production to Almyra (*See Below for details)

 _2XXX Gloucester Inc vs Riegan Tech_ ( _Derdriu Gate)_ , regarding the allegations of Riegan Tech Officials wiretapping annual Gloucester Inc Executive meetings since 2XXX, along with heavy accusations of poisoning the late Gloucester CEO (Unresolved – ONGOING: signs point to Riegan Tech to winning the case due to a suspicious disappearance of evidence from Gloucester Inc – Probably blackmail.)

  
  


**CEO Profile** : Lorenz Hellman Gloucester

 **Birthday** : 13th of the Garland Moon, 2XXX (24)

 **Birthplace** : Gloucester County

 **Status:** Unmarried (though rumors has it that he’s courting a woman from Sauin)

 **Personal Notes on Personality:** Smug, Contentious, Prideful, and Easy to Flatter (Just rain praises on the bastard, but too much)

 **Good Points of Conversation:** Gloucester Tech, Gloucester Tech Products, Financial Wealth of Eastern Fódlan (especially Gloucester County), Family Legacy, National/International Market Success, the Town of Sauin (Rumors has it that he’s infatuated with a woman from here – paparazzi has caught him visiting here but he claims that he’s admiring the nature)

**Personal Notes on Position/Life (All Unknown and Private):**

\- He was a student at the Garreg Mach Boarding School for the Troubled Youth in 2XXX for the official reason being that he had behavioral issues that would be disastrous for an heir; the actual reason is probably due to the Gloucester Inc’s earlier lawsuit with Fódlan and the illegal selling of AI Blueprints to Almyra (he probably done it).

\- Succeeded his father, the late Gloucester senior, two years ago but that was after the whole nasty affair with the Kirsten Family and the Victor Caravans Inc. He had to play damage control for daddy dearest and his former housemates were heads of those respectable companies

\- Rivals with Claude von Riegan of Riegan Tech (see his profile on page 30). Do not mention him unless you want to get an earful. They were former housemates back in Garreg Mach and departed on good terms, apparently. Then all that business with the wiretapping and poisoning got underway.

\- Opposes you; apparently, private emails explicitly express fears that you will defund Foundation aid to Eastern Fódlan commerce, though he seems self aware that the corporations could just take care of the region themselves...sounds like he’s just wary of you all together

  
  


**Goneril** **™**

**Current President and CEO (2XXX)** – Holst and Hilda Valentin Goneril (See CEO Profile after this section)

 **Est.** **Net Worth** – 10 Billion Dollars (Taxpayer money from Federal Government)

 **Assets (Privately Owned or Public)** – Edmund Stables (ongoing merger)

 **Total Value of Assets** – 30 Billion

 **Company Market Production** – Private Military and Security

 **Company Status** – Active

 **Scandals/Lawsuits (Resolved or Unresolved)** –

 _2XXX Almyra vs Goneril_ , regarding the allegations on abusive and extreme measures in anti-immigration methods at the Throat of Fódlan, resulting in several unaccounted deaths (Resolved: aid from Riegan Tech allowed Almyra to drop the case.)

  
  


**CEO Profile** : Hilda Valentin Goneril

 **Birthday** : 3rd of the Pegasus Moon, 2XXX (23)

 **Birthplace** : Throat of Fódlan

 **Status:** Married (Spouse – Marianne von Edmund)

 **Personal Notes on Personality:** Teasing, lazy, flirty, and incredibly sharp-minded (be wary around her for she’s quite the mastermind beneath her lipstick and eye shadow)

 **Good Points of Conversation:** Her beauty, the latest beauty products on the marketplace, her elder brother, Marianne von Edmund, and just about all normal things a pretty woman likes (she’s very standard but again, she’s not one to be underestimated)

**Personal Notes on Position/Life (All Unknown and Private):**

\- She was a student at the Garreg Mach Boarding School for the Troubled Youth in 2XXX for the official reason being that she got into a nasty fight with the daughter of another Round Table corporation over (shoes?). Her father wanted to make an example of her so she went to get sorted out and came out worse than before.

\- Succeeded her father and brother last year when the two decided to start a sub division within Goneril. Despite her looks and outright slothfulness, she’s surprisingly skilled at leading and has doubled figures in her family’s company alone.

\- Is married to Marianne von Edmund as of last year; they are currently in the process of merging the two corporations together

\- Supports you; she’s a humanitarian, which is surprising for the CEO of a private military sector that guards the border of Fódlan.

  
  


**Riegan Tech** **™**

**Current President and CEO (2XXX)** – Claude von Riegan (See CEO Profile after this section)

 **Est.** **Net Worth** – 84 Billion Dollars (sales nearly 88 billion)

 **Assets (Privately Owned or Public)** – The Almyran Sun (Private), The Desert Courier (Private), The Sun’s Chariot (Private), The Horse-string Television Station (Private)

(Just about every media station and outlet in Almyra without public knowledge)

 **Total Value of Assets (Unreported)** – 62 Billion (Stored off shore)

 **Company Market Production** – Technology and Media

 **Company Status** – Active

 **Scandals/Lawsuits (Resolved or Unresolved)** –

 _2XXX_ _Almyra_ _vs_ _Riegan Tech_ _,_ regarding the nature of Riegan Tech (privately) acquiring every single media company in the country including online archives (Resolved: *Paid Off Almyran Officials – see Printed Evidence Below)

2XXX – 2XXX Minor lawsuits of death, sabotage, and poisoning of rival companies (*See Below for details)

 _2XXX Gloucester Inc vs Riegan Tech_ ( _Derdriu Gate)_ , regarding the allegations of Riegan Tech Officials wiretapping annual Gloucester Inc Executive meetings since 2XXX, along with heavy accusations of poisoning the late Gloucester CEO (Unresolved – ONGOING: signs point to Riegan Tech to winning the case due to a suspicious disappearance of evidence from Gloucester Inc – Probably blackmail.)

  
  


**CEO Profile** : Claude von Riegan

 **Birthday** : 24th of the Blue Sea Moon, 2XXX (23)

 **Birthplace** : Unknown. Allegedly, based on Riegan senior’s press report, Claude is from Derdriu; unable to find further records to imply otherwise

 **Status:** Unmarried (Fódlan's most eligible bachelor, it seems)

 **Personal Notes on Personality:** A mastermind with a smile and no gauge on true personality; take grave caution

 **Good Points of Conversation:** Unknown.

**Personal Notes on Position/Life (All Unknown and Private):**

\- Claude von Riegan is a strange one, even for me. Apparently, he’s the former Riegan’s grandson, but the man only had one reported grandson and that’s with his daughter, Tiana, in Almyra. There’s a death certificate for Khalid as of five years ago. Apparently, Claude is adopted hence why he looks nothing like his grandfather. Even still, something doesn’t add up. Every record I searched for doesn’t exist—as if someone wiped them clean. There are no records in Almyra either.

\- Succeeded his grandfather two years ago when the old man suddenly died of a stroke. It was an unexpected succession but one Claude naturally took to with ease, as if he was born to be a backstabbing businessman; the first thing he did was purge the entire company and began acquiring media companies in Almyra

\- He’s as wickedly clever and conniving as they come, even more so with how he has the entire Round Table around his finger. No one trusts him and he doesn’t seem to trust any of them. The man is as secretive the space between a monastery nun’s legs. Deeper insight into private email records show a deep fear for Riegan Tech CEO with rumors that he may have poisoned and killed several rival executives as a show of power.

\- Is the only Round Table corporation that does not have an opinion on your succession. In fact, he seems to be avoiding the question from both the press and the Round Table.

\- Do you know him, Dimitri?

_______________________________

The eastern wind kissed Dimitri’s flushed cheeks as he stepped out of the car. A blessed sky in faded hues of pink, purple, and light blue greeted the man as the flaps of his black coat blew upward, and a disoriented valet held his hand out to accept the keys from Dedue.

Once the car disappeared down the road, the pair felt their coats for hidden pack of cigarettes and reluctantly followed the silent gestures of the Gloucester attendants through the grand iron gates of the estate.

Up ahead was the lilac-white manor of the Gloucester family, this elegant behemoth on top of an emerald green hill with the faded streaks of the horizon stretching behind it. There were blood-red roses and violet morning glories planted in intricate patterns all across the main lawn where a marble fountain of a grand rider stood strong; Dimitri could see Dedue briefly slow down at the sight of all the foliage, a bit of an impressed smile slitting across his face. The man always loved taking care of the Duscurian flowers back at their old countryside and even had a few plants in his main office back in Fhirdiad.

There were more silent attendants standing still in anticipation at the bottom of the steps all the way to the front door in an orderly line, and as Dimitri drew close, they automatically fell into a set switch; with their right arm pressed to their backs, and their left arm to their chest, they clicked their heels together and bowed in a mechanical precision.

Dimitri immediately stopped right at the bottom, his face pale with a sort of shame and surprise he figured those unequipped with such customs often felt. Or then again, Eastern Fódlan was a different monster.

He felt Dedue’s supportive hand hover right over his shoulder, three fingers pressing attentively as if to silently suggest for him to continue on and leave everything to him. It was here that Dimitri realized how stiff his own body was, every joint rusted over and refusing to fall into place. The man rolled his neck, gave a low sigh, and hurried on inside.

There were already guests mingling about, completely absorbed in each other’s conversations and the fine interior decorations of the manor, which turned out to be much bigger inside. But they were far and few-in between with the majority most likely attending the actual Talk out back in the Gloucester gardens.

Dimitri kept his eye down and absently far away from the different occupants as he followed the hand gestures of various attendants standing in the grand hallway—they were obviously pointing out to where the crystal purple-gold doors were flung out to an entire, spanning acres of nothing but rich gardens behind the manor; nothing but laughter, glasses clinking together and blinding lights emerging out into the inside, and Dimitri stood right at the border.

He was a stranger here. A foreigner. This was already made clear by all of the guest’s dazzling dresses of diamonds and finely made colored suits imported from Dagda and beyond; he was dressed as though he were attending a funeral with his midnight-black coat and dark blue scarf, which suddenly felt like a choking collar around his tightening throat.

This was nothing like the north; everyone here dressed to make an impression and play an underlying game of words, and Dimitri could not even find his own voice. He felt like a schoolboy transferred in the middle of the year—everyone already knew each other and the system.

He didn’t.

**You don’t belong here.**

“Dedue, do you have my medicine?” Dimitri murmured; he stared out to the entire party happening just outside the door—a spiral of pastel colors, dazzling crystals, and fields and fields of flowers greeted him from the border of the manor.

Without another word, Dedue automatically reached over and offered two small tablets along with an unopened bottle of water he kept with him at all times for Dimitri’s benefit. The man snatched the medicine up and down everything in a frantic rush; the room was spinning hot and the sound of coarse laughter hitched up—nails on a chalkboard, almost. Dimitri knew this would happen. Even after all these years, he still could not stand crowds or parties—usually he clung to his friends and especially his uncle who often kept his close for that reason.

But Rufus was dead, most of his friends were gone, and Dedue was more of a stranger here than he was in Northern Fódlan.

With a final sigh and the pleasant feeling of Dedue’s strong hand pressing against the back of his shoulder, Dimitri opened his eye and took a step out into the grand garden party of million dollar voices and honey-coated tongues. The smell of rich champagne was in the summer air and nothing more than a far away sadness.

_______________________________

Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, CEO of the Gloucester Inc, was just about everything Dimitri had been expecting of him, when he finally caught sight of the man standing in the rose gardens.

A tall, lanky man that eternally smelled like the mineral perfumes of Enbarr’s upper downtown metropolis and blood-red rosebushes stood at a curved angle with his slender hips pushed forward so his head naturally had to look down to whomever he was chatting to.

His violet hair, somewhat long on one side, was brushed down along the left side of his white face; he gave a laugh with his hand held up—limp, as if it were the proper way to express humor and made all subsequent forms of giggling appear barbaric and unpracticed.

Lorenz stuck out like a gem in the collective crowds that surround him, filling up the man’s glorious bubble with feigned, high-pitched laughter; the moment his slanted purple gaze riveted to Dimitri’s direction, taking in the sudden guest dressed like the grim reaper, all pleasantries and posture broke through to something close to surprise—even a bit of bitterness pulsing beneath the small smile that slit across his face.

“ _President_ Blaiddyd! So good to see that you decided to attend after all,” he announced loudly, with every person in that section turning curiously to see the commotion. Lorenz politely excused himself and walked forward, with the entire crowd parting upon instinct with a clear shot to Dimitri who stood frozen a few feet away.

He suddenly yearned so desperately to step back inside the manor, probably lock himself in one of the Gloucester golden bathrooms and sneak out once they have all forgotten him. All that mattered was that he showed up, right? How long did he really have to be here?

Dedue’s hand was still gently grasping his shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly. And Dimitri breathed out slowly through his nose as Lorenz stopped right in front of him; in his white gloved hand was a clear glass of thick purple wine—probably grown from the sun-kissed vineyards of the county. The man smiled passively and it was then that Dimitri realized that they were the exact same height—Lorenz was just much more slimmer, more elegant. More fitting for his station.

“I am so pleased that you could come. They told me that you were still mourning your uncle so I assumed you would take this month off,” Lorenz stated, the implication of honeyed voice loud and clear in Dimitri’s burning ears.

“Oh, I’m still mourning, but business is business, after all. The Foundation always attended the Talk every year and we are not about to stop now,” he stated, controlled.

“That’s incredibly professional of you, to force yourself to attend. Then again, we are all _dying_ to finally meet with you. Though we have met before...unless you still don’t remember.”

“I don’t, tragically. But it’s not too late for us to reconnect.”

“Of course, not! However, there are some concerns that you might be overwhelmed with inheriting the company in such short notice. Five years is hardly a grace period to be undertaking such a nationwide institution.”

Dimitri felt his throat tighten once again and he had to hook his thumbs into his pant pockets in order to avoid visibly clenching in front of the man. “I’m fine, really. I have many people supporting me and besides, it’s not like anyone else can replace me.”

“Oh yes, I agree,” Lorenz said, but his words came out empty and insincere as he swirled his wine, watching the ink-purple dance around the glass. He was already growing bored with this conversation, so ready to move on and deny Dimitri any other chance to talk as his eyes wandered elsewhere.

“You know, Lorenz, I’ve been following up on the latest tech updates for the incorporation’s newest models of laptops,” Dimitri started, swallowing down his anger.

The purple-haired man blinked rapidly and perked up. A smile, one that curled up towards the left side of his face, slit up in a mild surprise, and then he tilted his head curiously. “Oh...really?”

“The new processors your company just implemented is increasingly popular with our university students. A lot of our scholarship winners had submitted videos essays had used your model, and many of them have praised the speed for their software programs. Even I had to grab the new Gloucester Envy 180 for my editors.”

The praise and determination radiate through his skull and Dimitri felt his heart beat wildly against his rib cage in anticipation.

Lorenz glowed, nearly blinding him. “Oh my! That’s wonderful reception! Yes, yes, we have made some immense leaps at our labs for the fastest processors, especially since many school and work programs are now requiring more horse power.”

“I remembered interviewing a great majority of the students going into architecture and mechanical engineering and they simply had to have the new Gloucester processor in their desktops. I don’t remember ever hearing an alternative.”

“Truly? No alternative whatsoever?”

“Not that I remember. I mean, your new line of laptops are quite...expensive—but I know that’s reasonable,” Dimitri was quick to force in as he continued to gauge Lorenz’s beaming expression. “The Foundation statistics show that a majority of our scholarship winners used the portion of the money just to grab your model. It’s a necessity for them, of course. Not to mention, my executives have followed your career with great interest and we believe the market will continue to stay in your favor.”

“Hah! I knew it! And they called me crazy for checking up so often with _Riegan_ ,” Lorenz hissed, pleased at the news and even took a dramatic sip of his wine for show. “So you tracked that most university students in the north favor the newest processor line?”

“Naturally, though, as I implored again, price is of a concern. Hence why a good portion of their scholarship funds is used to afford it.” Dimitri repeated very gently; his heart swelled with excitement and he had to practice moderation in order from going too out of bounds.

Dedue’ presence hovering right behind gave him even more confidence and Dimitri even braved himself in throwing a saddened look to the ground. “The Riegan models are inexpensive but they come with a grave cost to...functionality if you understand me.”

“Why, _my friend_ , of course! I’m glad you see it that way!” Lorenz chirped excitedly and even drew close to Dimitri’s side; he took the bait. “Now, I can’t obviously lower the price but our set market is the academics, naturally! I don’t suppose the Foundation has any ideas for a possible future collaboration with Gloucester? A joint STEM scholarship tied with an internship, perhaps?”

Dimitri feigned a small gasp. “Why, I didn’t even think of such an idea! I was so distracted with the succession that I completely forgot about the scholarship. That’s genius and certainly will benefit the next few generations coming in from the inner cities.”

“Again, Gloucester values both quality and those who appreciates the quality.” Lorenz nodded, self satisfied at his mind. The man smiled like a diamond and laughed out in a sound akin to coins being dropped to the ground. “Why, Dimitri, I was quite worried for your presence, you know. There were...thoughts that you would take away funding from our own institutes.”

“Take away? No, but we are thinking of balancing more funding to other regions,” Dimitri said truthfully. He finally smiled, feeling what he could believe to be the joy of wordplay—the greatest pastime of the east. “Of course, with your empire here in the east, we are more dependent on you than ever on establishing more national scholarships—the true industry is here in Gloucester county, of course.”

“Now, I see why you are the Foundation’s President—a taciturn mind for the future! I’m actually quite pleased that we will be working together then. Let us drink to this momentous friendship!” Lorenz announced and passed Dimitri a glass of sparkling champagne.

Dimitri accept it cautiously with Dedue watching carefully, and clinked his glass with the man’s. When Lorenz threw his head back to down the rest of the wine, Dedue quickly snatched Dimitri’s champagne and poured it—with a pained face—at the roses before returning the empty glass to his hands.

After the cheers, Lorenz in all of his cheeriness, dragged the poor man around the rose garden and introduced him to other executives of Eastern Fódlan—specifically from Gloucester County, with the funny quirk of he and Dimitri being new “business partners”.

Dedue follow faithfully, with a worried expression, yet he was waning at the sight of all the different colored roses and plants they stumbled past. It was dangerous to bring a botanist with a doctorate to Eastern Fódlan's horticulture paradise.

The Foundation President went along with a fake smile plaster on his face and a heavy stone lying at the pit of his stomach. If playing the game and mingling was really this exhausting, then Dimitri might need to lie down a bit before jumping back into the shark-infested waters.

_______________________________

Dimitri found another reason to hate these gatherings. It was the social protocols and expected formalities that came with it.

Throughout his weary routine of hand shaking, bowing, and numerous of introductions where Dimitri’s title began to shrink with the growing fatigue from “Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, President of the Blaiddyd Foundation of Fhirdiad,” to “Dimitri Blaiddyd, the Foundation.” and finally, to “Dimitri, the Foundation.”.

He passed from garden to garden: from roses, to lilies, to tulips, to bell flowers, to lavenders, and finally to azaleas where to a woman’s very soft and elegant hand nestled lightly in the weary grip of his black gloved hand as he leaned down for the one hundredth time for a kiss and the usual introduction: “Pleasure to make your acquaintance. Dim---”

“Dimitri Alexandre Bladdiyd of the Blaiddyd Foundation of Fhirdiad—yes, yes, I know, mister parrot.”

He blinked at the enormous diamond dazzling on the woman’s ring finger and slowly peered up at a smiling face; a woman he did not bother to take a good look at for he has met nearly fifty women—wealthy wives, CEOs, entrepreneurs, and stock agents alone at the Talk.

At some point, the faces blurred together and their voices merely rang out like a far away sound he could not distinguish. And yet, the sight of this woman: glowing with rosy cheeks, pink hair, and sparkling eyes, and _that_ voice—something deep and bottomless echoed in Dimitri’s heart and he struggled to recognize it’s call.

“I _know_ you,” was all he could utter and the woman beamed like the sun.

“Yes, you do. But we don’t have to get into that now. For all intents and purposes, I will introduce myself as though we were strangers: the name is Hilda Valentin Goneril.”

“Of Goneril.”

“Saw it twice and it’s just as nice,” Hilda chirped before twisting her hand around Dimitri’s wrist and pulling him forward into the privacy of all the peach trees growing next to the azaleas.

Strangely enough, he allowed himself to be tugged along, but not before looking back; Dedue was staring intently at a poor aligned row of flowers and was working on fixing it without ever noticing Dimitri’s silent plead.

Once the pair were in the sanctuary of tree shadows, Hilda fixed her hair—which smelled faintly of azaleas and cocoa butter all in one package, and before Dimitri knew it, she threw her arms around him in a tight hug. The action threw him off so dramatically that he nearly tripped back against a tree; wondrous smells of perfume and the sensations of extremely soft and plump skin pressed against his body, and all Dimitri could do is return a hug in kind while keeping his eyes up to the canopy.

“I missed you, mister.”

“I thought we were strangers.”

“Oh, we are,” she said and moved back to take a good long look at him. She licked her thumb and reached over to part a loose strand of his golden hair back over his eye patch. “But you’re still you, even if you don’t exactly remember anything. It’s good to see you again, Dimitri.”

“I wish I can say the same with as much passion,” he said nervously, trying to think back on Yuri’s notes on Hilda. However, in all of his searching, his mind came up blank and all he could think of was how pink Hilda’s lipstick was or how her eye shadow faintly shone with glitter— _beauty products_!

“Uh, you’re very beautiful,” he blurted with his single eye wandering all over her smiling face; she laughed, but it was a much different sound than Lorenz. It was cheery, loose, with a bit of an ugly snort—incredibly unsophisticated, and Dimitri’s shoulders sagged with relief.

“Please, Dimitri, you don’t have to kiss up to me—not like Lorenz. I already know and like you. No, I pulled you in here so we can catch up in private without all the airs.”

“Oh, thank the Goddess. I’m starting to get extremely tired of smiling and shaking everyone’s perfectly lotioned hands.”

“Heh, you’ll have to get used to it down here. At least you’re not like my wife, skittering around my back and merely letting out a peep in everyone’s general direction.”

_Hilda’s wife, Hilda’s wife—Marianne._

“M-Marianne, right? Where is she?” Dimitri stuttered nervously as though he were being quizzed on the spot.

Hilda perked up. “Ah, she’s around—probably at the Gloucester stables down past the gardens. She’ll be coming back around here in a second. But enough about me—how have you been these past years? And no, I know all about your amnesia since the accident so just fill me in on what you’ve been doing after that. All I read about is what the cover-ups are.”

“Why should I trust you?” Dimitri asked without any malice. Even though he _knew_ that he and Hilda had some kinda of past, along with Lorenz and probably many others at this Talk, Dimitri still had not the faintest memory to really look back on.

What if Hilda was secretly a cruel person back when they attended school together?

But she clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. “Please—I know all about you, more than you know of yourself.”

“Like?”

“There was a time where I caught you stealing cheese sticks from the dining hall at night.”

“That sounds like me,” he muttered sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I think it was the night of midterms. You couldn’t sleep despite drinking twenty cups of chamomile so you stole cheese, ate it all, and threw up the next morning in the study hall bathroom---”

“Alright, you proven me your point,” Dimitri said and waved his hands about, face red. Hilda was smiling at him; he was an old friend, she had a clear sentimentality on her face, and he knew that she wasn’t lying. Finally, he had found some sanctuary within the colorful, blinding cesspool of the Talk.

“I see you’re doing well, Mr. President,” she cooed sweetly with a mocking annotation on _President_. “How are your little buddies? It’s been five years since graduation, of course.”

“Sylvain and Felix are married—they went off to Sreng for their honeymoon.”

“Wow, those two finally put a ring on it? I thought they were gonna get hitched the minute they left that shitty school.”

“I think they wanted to but…” Dimitri peered off to the side, remembering all the days where Sylvain and Felix took shifts to spend some time with him—helping him adjust both physically and mentally to the new world he awoken in. Then came more schooling, more business, and an array of other things before the pair could actually find the time to tie the knot.

And that was only a few months ago.

“I’m sorry about your uncle, by the way. He was always so polite and sweet to me every year he attended. Are you doing alright?”

“As of now? Yeah, I’m learning how to really mourn and move past it.”

“Hm, mourning. You’ve been doing so much of that since school---” Hilda stopped dead-white and touched her glistening lips in a silent gasp. “I...I’m sorry, that was out of line.”

Dimitri held up a hand. “No, it’s alright. I really don’t know anything about that time so there’s no need to dwell on it,” he explained coolly.

“B-But, do you feel anything about them? About her?”

**Do you still remember me?**

Dimitri touched the side of his head. Was it four hours yet? Could he retake his medication?

“I...I think of them from time to time. But the real pain is not being able to really feel sad if I can’t even remember their faces or voices, you know?” He replied very honestly.

_Except one._

Hilda nodded sympathetically and clasped her hands together. “I’m sorry again. I know it doesn’t mean much coming from me, but---”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dimitri stated once again, a bit stronger this time as if to shut down all conversation around this topic. His voice tinged against his throat and he suddenly felt hot. The man, instead, tugged his black gloves down and kept his single eye occupied with another sight.

“It’s still good that you came though. There’s been a lot of talk that you’re thinking of limiting loans to our region’s industries.”

“Are you worried about that?”

“Gods no. Goneril doesn’t fuck with all the economic shit. We deal with arms, military, and all manners of political bullshit regarding the border. But, you know, everyone else is wary.”

“Other than Lorenz, whom I have apparently became best friends with a few hours ago, who else here would want me gone? I thought I met and ‘proven’ myself to most of them before I got to you.”

“Hm, well there is that little, pathetic man Acheron. He’s always babbling about some shit,” Hilda started roughly and peered closely at her perfectly manicured nails. She was bored and all of this was simply a parrot reciting its words with a weary detachment. “Madame Daphnel, she thinks you’re too soft. Hell, she even thought your uncle was soft. Again, that’s just natural to her since she actually cares about Eastern Fódlan's institutions. Mr. Ordelia does really doesn’t trust northerners but his daughter might sway him—we all went to school together, of course. There’s a few others, but it’s more greed than anything else since no one wants to use their own money to help the region. And---”

“R-Riegan, right? What about him?”

Hilda lifted her head up. A cold, foreign expression swept across her pretty features. Her eyes were fixed on him tightly, abnormally steady, but they suddenly lacked their earlier light. Suppressing all emotion and feeling, with just dark pits swirling and swirling without any control. The woman blinked automatically and she tilted her head.

“Riegan. You mean Claude? Do you remember him, Dimitri?”

He shook his head slowly. “No. Should I?”

Hilda’s mouth thinned to a single line and she finally broke away contact to stare at the low hanging peaches above her; she seemed to be both grieving and relieved.

“No, no...don’t worry about it. Claude has no opinion on your position. I think he’s trying to stay neutral as everyone in Eastern Fódlan is split by your succession. Again, I would not pay him any mind, not when there are others who would refuse your hand.”

“I thought so,” he muttered to himself.

Why was she so cold to him when he brought up Riegan? Were they fighting? He was not so sure anymore on all these hidden alliances, though Yuri did warn him that there was inner fighting in the Round Table itself.

“Nevermind all that nasty business. You’ll see everyone in due time. Now, back to the topic at hand: what of your other friends? Ingrid? Mercedes? Ashe? Annie? Dedue?”

“Uh, Ingrid’s dealing with things in Enbarr. Mercedes and Annette are in graduate school together in Fhirdiad. Ashe is trying to set up a restaurant in the city as we speak, and Dedue---” Dimitri looked around the small space he and Hilda were occupying in the shade.

He poked his outside the peach trees and spotted his attendant speaking with a blue-haired woman. He stared at the pair as they silently chatted, with the woman giving a quiet sort of laugh; Dedue turned his head slightly to the side, spotting Dimitri’s one blue eye spying him from the trees. The man gave a wave and gestured for the small woman to follow him.

When Dimitri’s gaze riveted over to her, there was another familiar sensation of shock, which traveled up his spine and congealed at the back of his neck—the same he experienced with Hilda, but much more stronger—potent, and absolute wrenching. He knew her. And this time, he remembered her name.

“Marianne?”

There was not another word as the blue haired woman scurried over excitedly and had to jump up a bit in order to throw her delicate arms around his neck. They spun around a bit before falling back into the soft grass of the peach trees. Hilda and Dedue stood over the pair, and the pink-haired woman bent over, wagging a single finger.

“Are you thinking of stealing my wife, Dimitri? How scandalous!”

But the only thing Dimitri could really here is Marianne’s low and excited manta: a string of _I miss you’s_ along with some happy cooing. As the small and passing fragments of his memory seemed to suggest, Marianne was not a usually expressive person.

It must have been a long time coming for everyone.

“Stand up, you two. Let’s go have some lunch in the pavilion and catch up! So, big guy, I bet you can teach these Derdriu chefs a thing or two about cooking. What do you say?”

Dedue’s brow arched up ever so slightly. “Is there a stock on Duscur beast steak?”

Hilda smiled a million dollars. “Always.”

_______________________________

Dimitri had wandered far from the party by the time all of the wine and champagne had gotten into everyone’s heads.

A yellow crescent moon hung extremely low in the black of the starlit ocean as the various members of the Round Table had broken out into a strange, hypnotic dance all around the glowing gardens. Those who haven’t joined in all of the drunken dancing—their faces drained of color from all the fine food and drink, had taken healthy strolls around the miles and miles of gardens, illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns hanging from the trees and poles.

Others, who were lingering between intoxication and sober, retired back into the manor where Lorenz was showing friends around his private million-dollar collection of statues and art. The man had persistently asked Dimitri to come inside and check out the fine interior decorating only for the latter to state that he would join the crowd shortly once he gotten some fresh air.

And so, Dimitri stayed outside, strolling right along the dark, unlit edges of the garden where the path lead down to the Gloucester stables. Further out was the main pasture where different activities were laid out in the daytime such as archery and falconry. Earlier on, Dimitri and Dedue had watched some of the Gloucester executives show off their prized falcons with Marianne even impressing the crowd by taming one of the more vicious birds when it tried to claw out its owner’s eyes.

The woman was a natural animal whisperer.

She and Hilda were surprisingly avid drinkers, especially with Gloucester wine, and before any of them knew it, the women were falling over in Lorenz’s rose bushes and giggling in hysterics—with Hilda even throwing up on the rare purple rose that apparently won last year’s Derdriu Flower Consortium.

Eventually, Dimitri implored Dedue to help escort the couple back to the manor and see to them in case they started throwing up; the Duscur man, already so ashamed at witnessing the defilement of flowers right before his eyes, quietly lead the giggling pair back through the dancing crowd and up to the glowing manor on the hill.

Dimitri, on the other hand, kept walking. From the pasture where there were leftover streamers and bits of falcon crap all over the wet grass, he looked behind him and over at the manor in the distance. The lit-up naked windows with silhouettes moving about like passing shadows, and the faint shrill of drunken laughter—high pitched and terribly rich with a pleasure seldom felt by those beneath them.

And despite making friends today with a majority of his oppressors with the exception of a few troubled individuals, Dimitri still did not feel like he belonged here. In fact, despite the warm summer air and the ever-present smell of flowers and spritzer, he yearned so desperately for the north.

For the gray skies that never shone the sun; for the biting air that bristled the skin and made weary the soul; for the cold attitudes of its people, and the extremely loyal and intense hearts they carried; for the streets that glistened with rain, reflecting the neon from the nearby bars and tattoo shops; for Fhirdiad Tower, which kept him hovering above the city like an observant recluse.

Except for the ghost that kept him awake at night until he swallowed down Dr. Arnim’s quieting medicine.

Dimitri shut his eyes, rubbing small circles at the sides of his temple as another nausea wave came forth once again and swallowed him up terribly. She was trying to speak to him again, and tonight was not the night for him to hear her piercing advice for the tenth time in a row.

**Trying to shut me out again, Dimitri?**

He reached into his coat, seeking his medication Dedue had left for him; He popped two more pills down his throat and swallowed dryly. Ten minutes before the headaches would disappear; ten minutes before she went back to sleep in his head.

Ten minutes before he could stay anchored to this world once more.

To pass the time, Dimitri took out his phone, his thumb instinctively searching for the group chat Sylvain had made for the three of them save for Ingrid who opted out after the latter began to share stupid images. He remembered that Felix told him earlier that they were always a text away, though this was paired with a voice that greatly implied _for emergencies_.

But Dimitri was keenly aware of his clingyness and chased it.

  
  


**Sylvain and Felix**

**I miss you guys.**

...

Felix: Is there something you need?

Sylvain: Kinda busy at the moment, big guy.

**Sorry. At the Talk. Not feeling so good. Just wanted to check in.**

Sylvain: Sorry to hear that man. Is Dedue with you?

**Will be in a sec.**

_..._

Felix:Stick with him. We’re occupied at the moment.

**I’m sorry. I just miss talking with you two.**

Sylvain: Miss you too, man. But now is not the best time.

Felix: I thought we muted this chat until the year was over.

Sylvain: That was your job.

Felix: Dimitri, don’t text us unless it’s an emergency. Better yet, call us because we’re muting this chat now.

**I’m sorry, I’ll leave you two alone now.**

Sylvain: Right on, buddy.

  
  


Dimitri sighed and placed his phone back into his pocket.

The summer breeze blew all around him, carrying scents in the dark from the nearby party: thousand-dollar perfume, fondant cake, champagne spewing from the marble fountain, and flowers. So many flowers. As Dimitri figured out today, not all flowers smelled the same: some smelled light and pleasant; some were heavy and oppressive; some smelled like spring; some smelled like summer.

None smelled like winter.

If there was one memory Dimitri was able to obtain and keep with him during his five years, it was this image of blue winter roses. Just fields and fields of winter roses, spreading out endlessly until they can no longer be seen past the white horizon. And they smelled like crisp snow.

As the man wandered in the darkness—eyes closed, trying to chase a ghost of a memory, which he can no longer return to, something gave a sharp _snap_ nearby him.

Dimitri lurched up suddenly from the noise. It was here that he noticed that he was standing extremely close to the dark forests, which surrounded the perimeter of the Gloucester pasture—black, bottomless, and absolutely consuming woods. And right next to him, something large emerged from the shadows.

What came first was the jagged sharp points—a collection of interconnected twisted dark knives slipping out first into that moonlit field. Then the dark green eyes of a forest. Then the heavy muscled body, taut with power.

Dimitri’s heart dropped; the child inside emerged.

A stag. Not the head of the stag, which Dimitri locked for all eternity in his uncle’s closet back at the Kleiman countryside, but an actual, walking, breathing stag.

Suddenly, his breath came out in short, frantic bursts—drowning and choking underwater without breaking through the surface. Dimitri’s hands clambered for purchase, holding onto anything as he stumbled back in a terrified mantra. His heel slipped on a particular muddy spot and the man fell down on his side, yelping. He blinked rapidly—a child lost in the dark; hands curling deep into the wet grass, and he looked up.

The shadowy figure of a stag was right upon him. Green eyes glowing, eating him up inside and out, and the creature—his executioner—approaching him like the blade of a guillotine. Dimitri had been here before, in the nightmare, in the vision of his death. He closed his eyes, brought his hands up, and waited for his execution. But it never came.

Instead, something thin and quick whizzed past him in the darkness and stuck the stag right at it’s hip. The creature’s green eyes exploded with red pain and it shrieked wildly before bucking and heading back into the mouth of the woods. Dimitri caught just the tip of the arrow before the stag faded out of sight. The man’s breathing slowed to a crawl, his heart’s quickened race to death finally finding the relief of pacing, and he let out a choked sigh.

By his side, a dark hand was offered from a figure he couldn’t really make out due to the dizziness of his one eye. But Dimitri accepted the aid with a wet hand was pulled up onto his unsteady feet. His savior flashed a bright light in his face, flushing the small area around them with the sanctuary of sight: a lantern. When Dimitri blinked into focus, he finally was able to see his savior in the explicit light.

And his mind, which bounced from panic to relief to fatigue, stopped functioning.

Like a summer storm in places where in one instant, it switches from bright and blue to dark and black, with flashes of light and roaring thunder. Sudden silence descending over the pasture and surrounding forests as though a hunter’s gun went off in the distance; above, the moon slashed over the trees, blindingly yellow and sickly and Dimitri’s mouth went dry.

“Did you know that stags are the protectors of Eastern Fódlan? They are sacred here, worshiped like kings. So, to be honest, I never expected to find one to react with so much _fear_ like you,” the dark handsome man with hungry green eyes and a sardonic, half-crescent smile uttered coolly. His gaze riveted all around Dimitri’s wet form, narrowing with a biting humor. “I mean, who is scared of deer?”

“I...I am,” he admitted very softly, unable to think of anything else.

The man chuckled and shook his head. _He’s amused_. He crossed his arms and Dimitri could see the large, wooden bow in his strong grip.

“You’re not from here, are you stranger? Everyone knows you shouldn’t wander around these parts in the dead of night.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be—that thing wasn’t going to hurt you anyway. Most are curious; they like to watch from a distance.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Is that all you can say? _I’m sorry?_ ” The man said with a playful cruelty, his dark brow arched ever so slightly. The corners of his mouth twisted up, revealing a sharp pair of teeth, and he laughed softly. “You were just lucky that I was practicing my archery at this time of night.”

Dimitri swallowed and felt the stone hit the bottom of his stomach. “W-Why were you practicing at this time of night?”

The man hummed nonchalantly, pricking the string of his bow with a lethargic tense. “Because there’s no one around to see me. I like to do my work in the dark, that’s all. Question is, why are you wandering around like some lost stray in the pasture when the party is _that_ way?”

“I needed fresh air. One that isn’t filled with alcohol and flowers.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that one: I tire of smelling Lorenz’s 24 hour cologne too. Eventually, it gives you this weird, crazy high that just takes away all logic from the mind. You know, what I mean, my friend?”

Dimitri’s head started to race as he felt a strange and consuming heat flush over him from head to toe, like a swelling summer wave in the middle of Ailell. And all he could see in front of him was the sharply handsome dark stranger, smiling white like the flash of a dagger, taunt with lean muscle and a figure he surely seen in a past life. A notion in his mind repeated in a string of desperate messages, a light flickering rapidly: _whoareyouwhoareyouwhoareyou_? But unlike Hilda and Marianne, the answer did not come. In fact, Dimitri felt like it was throbbing beneath the surface, unable to breach and scream out.

“Y-Yeah,” was all he could utterly from an extremely dry tongue.

The man grinned at this response, as though he had been expecting it. “I never like going to these things anyway. It’s an annual obligation that leaves me tired and bored. Doesn’t help that everyone here is the same damn fool since last year—though you’re a new sight here.”

“I’m from the north.”

“Wow, the north.” The man whistled sharply. “Makes sense since you look like you’re attending a funeral than any lavish garden gala.”

“The party was...it was a lot.”

“Can be. The trick is to block out the voices through smiles and nods. Block out their faces and just look over their shoulder. And before you know it, the day is already over.”

“Does that actually work?”

“Been working for me for the last five years,” he said with a sharp-toothed smile and a half-chuckle. The lantern in his other hand swung and cast shadows between the two men—his green eyes glowing in and out of the darkness at Dimitri’s one blue.

 _I know you—who are you_?

“Whoa. Your coat—it’s completely drenched, my friend.”

Dimitri blinked and peered down at his clothes. His black long coat was slathered in mud and grass from the right shoulder down, dripping a bit on his shoes. He could feel the cool water seeping through and into his thin dress shirt, right against the skin.

“Oh shit, I didn’t even notice,” he stuttered nervously and began to peel his coat off. The wet, muddy fabric clung to the soggy white shirt underneath, and he ended up forcing that garment down past his bare right shoulder in a clumsy attempt to undress.

“Yeah, best to take that off. I can help you find one of Lorenz’s aides and---” The man stopped half-sentence and stared. Dimitri felt the mood shift immensely, the coming of a storm; the dark shadows beneath the man’s exploding green eyes deepened and the sardonic, laughing smile on his face immediately disappeared, replaced with a slightly open mouth in shock. And in those green pupils, laid an absolutely smoldering sense of recognition, pain, and something that was doubling in size and threatening to blow over.

Finally, with a single finger, he pointed to Dimitri’s right shoulder and uttered in a foreign voice. “What is that?”

“This?” Dimitri repeated, peering down at the deep red scar embedded into his right shoulder. “Ah, I had that since...forever? Apparently, I got it back when I was in school.”

“You remember how?”

“No, actually. This might sound funny but I actually lost my entire memory five years ago. You think it would...come back by now, but no. I’m just stuck, wandering around and nodding along to memories everyone else has but I don’t. But at least I have this scar...wherever it came from,” he said nervously, even laughing over his own stumbling words.

But his companion was not laughing. The man was staring at him so intensely, an all-consuming and scorching heat, that all air was forced out of Dimitri’s lungs. Finally, a smile broke through. But it was absolutely nothing like the smile he gave to him early, cool and bemused like he was making fun of him. This smile strangely belied the dark ebbing of possessiveness and piercing red-hot affection. Suddenly, Dimitri’s heart pulsed with life and he felt himself grin a bit like a school girl.

“What’s your name?” the man asked in a tone that implied he already knew the answer—he just wanted to hear it from Dimitri, with a voice that one would use to goad a child into a fantastical world, romantic and whimsical.

He even stepped a bit closer until they were but a foot apart. Up close, Dimitri could see the strands of warm, chocolate hair over the green of his eyes, and an extremely attractive face. He’s seen this visage before, even closer and more intimate than where he is now.

Dimitri smiled, rosy cheeked. “I’ve been telling everyone to the point of feeling sick of my own name but, I don’t think I’ll mind sharing with you at all. I’m Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, President of the Blaiddyd Foundation of Fhirdiad.” He brought his wet hand up, shaking slightly from excitement. “But uh, you can call me Dimitri.”

“What a title...over here, we keep titles short unless you’re Lorenz.” The man accepted Dimitri’s hand, squeezing tightly as if to never let it go; he smiled and suddenly pulled him close until their faces were inches apart—Dimitri’s face turned red and flushed. Then, came a hot whisper, air brushing along his skin from the fated words.

“My name is Claude by the way. Claude von Riegan.”

“Oh, the CEO of the company that makes all the laptops and phones?”

Claude laughed, a sound so much more intoxicating than both Lorenz’s absurdly high-pitched screech and Hilda’s snort. His laughter was breathy, short, and took Dimitri in like a pleasant wave. The handsome man stumbled and smiled foolishly, shaking his head.

“Yup, that’s me. The one and only.”

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

“Depends. How much media do you consume?”

“Very little to an obsessive amount depending on my moods.” Dimitri’s breath shortened to tight little puffs when he felt Claude’s extremely strong and callused hand pat his bare shoulder, thumb caressing the red scar unconsciously.

They were extremely close.

“But, I meant like, did we go to school together? Like how Lorenz and Hilda were my former classmates...apparently.”

Claude tilted his head, perversely amused. “Oh, we might have. Yes, I think I recall now—this angelic, handsome young man whose morning breath used to smell like cheese sticks.”

_Morning breath? Did we have class together in the morning?_

“Please. Stop,” Dimitri snorted, embarrassed. “I swear, my breath these days smell more like peppermint than cheese.”

“Oh,” Claude leaned in, just craning his face towards the exposed side of Dimitri’s pale neck. And he smelled. “I _know_.”

“You’re quite touchy-feely, aren’t you, Claude?”

“Are you complaining?”

“No…” Dimitri kept his gaze centered on the man in front of him, who reached over and pushed the wet strands of golden hair away from his eye patch.

“You didn’t used to have one eye, _Dima_.”

“An accident five years ago. I hope it doesn’t make me too ugly.”

“Ugly? You’re the prettiest thing to look at next to Lorenz’s prize winning purple rose.”

“Oh. Yeah, Hilda threw up on that.”

“Next to Lorenz’s second prize winning red rose.”

Dimitri threw his head back and laughed.

Claude was still smiling, staring off at him like a far-away dream slowly unveiling itself and becoming undone right in front of his eyes. A feeling, which laid dormant in Dimitri’s heart threw open the floodwaters and spilled out in a violent rush. And he recognized what it was—similar and perhaps more potent that the waves of emotions he held for Yuri.

“Well, Mr. Blaiddyd, can I escort you back to the manor? Get you cleaned up? Maybe, we could slip away from the nonsensical chatter for a drink or two?”

“If only we can discuss business. I really would like your opinion on my succession as of late.”

Something sharp and mischievous twinkled in Claude’s dark green eyes. “Oh, after today, I can say with much certainty that I am extremely pleased that you’re on board. Come now, let’s talk business—maybe we can come to a _pleasant_ compromise for both of our companies.”

Behind them, a collective of birds chirped pleasantly in the night and Dimitri spun around, confused.

“What kind of birds sing at night?”

The hand that grasped Dimitri’s shoulder squeezed, fingers grasping deep into the pale skin. A sensation Dimitri felt before, this rather possessive touch and intent to keep still.

“Songbirds,” Claude whispered sweetly.

His voice echoed down Dimitri’s spine and he could only shiver with a smile as the man led him back towards the lights of the Gloucester estate. And not once did he notice the pair of hungry, unfulfilled eyes focused on the unattainable, but **promised.**

**______________________**

**Sylvain and Felix**

**I am so sorry. I know you guys told me not to text you but I just have something excited to share. I met someone at this gala. He’s super sweet and we went out for drinks and everything. I don’t know if this is how you two felt the first time, but I think I’m in love. Yes, I think it’s love. I’m in love! I’m sorry, I just needed to tell someone. Even if you two never see this until after the honeymoon. We even shared a kiss at the end of the gala and he gave me his number—his personal number, not the one on a business card. By the goddess, I sound like a schoolgirl with a crush. Anyway, please have fun at your honeymoon and I’m sorry, I won’t bother you two again.**

**Oh! And he’s also a CEO so we will be working together.**

**You guys know Claude von Riegan?**

_[Automatic Message]_ _We're on vacation right now and may not attend your calls and text. We will contact you after 12 months._

**______________________**

**The Abyss_encrypted entry: Approved for [USER_Riegan]**

**Host: User_Lilac Bird**

**IP_Unknown**

**Riegan** – I am in need of your services once more.

 **Lilac Bird** – Again? Who do you need to sabotage this time? Got fed up with Gloucester, finally? I know a good Abyss seller of Dagda poison—slow and it makes the death seem natural.

 **Riegan** – No, information, my friend.

 **Lilac Bird** – Oh? You’re not one to approach me for such matters. I thought you were the type to observe and plan yourself.

 **Riegan** – I’m serious this time.

 **Lilac Bird** – How serious?

 **Riegan** – I will literally give you my grandfather’s inheritance money for all the information you have in your damn archives.

 **Lilac Bird** – Would you even spare me some actual, definite information on your own identity, ‘Claude’?

 **Riegan** – YES.

 **Lilac Bird** – Wow. Okay. You’re not kidding. Fine, who do you need information about?

 **Riegan** – I need all the records from the last five years on Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd.

 **Riegan** – Did you read me?

 **Lilac Bird** – No, I read you. But why him?

 **Riegan** – Why are you asking? You never ask.

 **Lilac Bird** – Just curious, since you never ask for information.

 **Riegan** – Get me his entire records and you can have anything you want from me.

 **Lilac Bird** – Are you intending to...hurt him?

 **Riegan** – Oh no, my friend. I would never hurt him. He’s very precious to me.

 **Riegan** – My little songbird.


	2. A Conversation about Love and Arrow Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri deals with his strange relationship with a bird; he tours the eastern capital; he meets with a familiar face and breaches the first memory

**The Fódlan Courier**

“ **_From the Hand of the Messenger to the Lord of the Castle”_ **

Fódlan € 5,00 – Duscur € 6,50 – Brigid € 7,00 – Dagda € 9,00

Edition 2XXX. Blue Sea Moon.

**BLAIDDYD FOUNDATION COLLABORATION WITH ROUND TABLE**

Last month, the annual Round Table Talk of Eastern Fódlan underwent with surprising results that left the nation without words and the stock market in a complete disarray. What was expected to be a tense event with directionless talk, especially with the inclusion of the Blaiddyd Foundation’s newest president, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, who had been vehemently opposed by several of Round Table tycoons, had resulted in the promise of several nationwide partnerships.

One of the most anticipated collaboration projects underway, which is expected to hit the stock market and education system next year is the Blaiddyd – Gloucester alliance, which will financially support and supply all Fódlan students entering STEM universities and programs with a direct internship with Gloucester Inc. The talks are set for the upcoming fall and will be followed up shortly with the Round Table negotiations.

Another point of interest which came out of the Talk last month was the strange relationship chronicled and cited by several media outlets on the friendship between Blaiddyd and Riegan Tech’s CEO, Claude von Riegan. While there has not been any official reported partnership between the Foundation and Tech, the two heads were seen meeting and chatting several of times throughout Blaiddyd’s stay in Gloucester County for the Talk.

Rumors believe that the private meetings between Blaiddyd and Riegan are an indication of a developing collaboration, which has yet to be announced. However, other sources cited that the meetings could be out of genuine interest for friendship than any business.

Though critics of Riegan warned outlets that this behavior is greatly unheard of for the infamous CEO as he never meets anyone out of ‘pleasure’. Some are even going as far as to state: “every action he makes is not out of friendship or care. The world is a chessboard to him, and all he does is move around the pieces until he takes the queen. Take caution: his interest in the Foundation is another economic move towards power,” Judith Daphnel, President of the Daphnel Company, stated without any malice. Daphnel is a known critic of Riegan, having mentored him personally in the early years of his succession, and her comments are supported by several Eastern Fódlan corporations.

Regardless of the rumors, the stock market awaits for the second grand collaboration if Blaiddyd and Riegan does reveal a possible negotiation underway; if not, then the continuous meetings between the two presidents will continue to inspire deep speculation.

And anxiety.

__________________

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd—surviving son, aspiring young entrepreneur, and president of a multi-billion dollar federal funding house—choked on his second cup of chamomile tea and stared in complete disbelief at the familiar yet unexpected sight of Yuri LeClerc standing right at the doorway of his office on the one hundredth floor of Fhirdiad tower.

The slender beauty stood in a way where the faint lights of the night city bounced right off the soft lilac of his hair, highlighting a translucent halo around his head. When he stepped into the grand office, the lights moved with him, casting hazy patterns all over the black marble floor. He strolled over very slowly—gliding almost, and gently came around the edge of Dimitri’s large engraved den desk—a classic eye sore upon a highly modern office.

Yuri smiled like an unsheathed dagger in the darkness, slid his slender thigh over the desk until he was half-sitting—his gloved hand on top of Dimitri’s stack of reports and he bent over towards the white-shocked man, licking his lips.

“Evening your majesty,” Yuri greeted in his usual smooth intonation, smelling lightly of Derdriu champagne and was finely cut like the edges of a diamond. He was glowing, radiant, and smiled in a way that made Dimitri instinctively back away in his chair. He was anticipating punishment right before the words began to gurgled at the base of throat.

“Well? Did this bird catch your pretty little tongue?”

“I-I’m sorry…,” Dimitri managed to mutter as Yuri cleanly moved over the table and slipping right into his seat. His slender body fit so naturally in Dimitri’s lap and he loomed over the poor man—grinning as his hand tugged playfully at the helms of the president’s midnight-blue suit and his tie, bringing their faces closer.

“You always apologize. It pisses me off so much,” he muttered, the toxicity of his purple eyes glowing malevolently. “But why don’t you tell me what exactly you are apologizing for.”

“F-For...forgetting our date---”

“Our date, exactly. And then I had to seduce security from down on the main floor to even let me up on this glass behemoth.” Yuri harshly pulled on Dimitri’s tie, practically choking the white-faced president as their noses touched, breaths intermingling. “My knees _hurt_ , you know. You have to make this right.”

“I-I can get ready in ten minutes! Oh Yuri, I am so sorry---” Dimitri started but a single finger touched his lip, effectively silencing the man. He watched as Yuri leaned in, licking his lips with the white of his fangs glistening.

They stared at each other, dual emotions of fear and predatory arousal sweltering between the men. Finally, Yuri craned his head around and captured Dimitri’s lips in a hunger kiss; the warmth beckoned the president to melt completely, submitting to the man’s dominating will. Their tongues danced incandescently around each other, consuming so earnestly in the act of affectionate cannibalism.

Yuri’s hands slinked beneath Dimitri’s white dress shirt, sprawling out his fingers upon a thumping chest—fingers tweaking at his nipple playfully. Dimitri whined in the middle of their kiss, his mouth opening in a soundless gasp; Yuri’s tongue slipped in and he nibbled the man’s body lip. Eventually, they pulled away with just a thinning web of saliva connecting their bruised lips. Yuri kept his glowing eyes centered on the parting present and he licked away their conjoined spit with an audible swallow.

Dimitri shuddered and he leaned back into his chair, sinking down a bit with weak limbs. The man sitting in his lap gave a lighthearted laugh and he knew he had been forgiven.

“Ten minutes, right? I think after that little activity and what I have planned ahead, you would need more time than that,” Yuri stated as he ran his thumb gently below Dimitri’s lip and licked the spit shamelessly.

“What were you planning?”

“You’ll see. But all I have to say is that it will be _a lot_ of exercise.”

“Y-You know, Sylvain have me some of those special oils he ordered and---”

“Oh, my sweet boy, I love where your mind goes sometimes,” Yuri said with a chuckle. He stared at Dimitri and pressed their foreheads together, a rare gentle smile slitting across his mischievous face. “That was the initial idea. Lock you up in my room for the entire night until you’re falling over in the morning like a newborn fawn. But I’m feeling rather...nostalgic lately. And I could use some actual cardio.”

Dimitri’s brow arched. Yuri was never one to speak so fondly on such matters; the dangerous beauty preferred to stay within the confines of his cage. “Cardio?”

Yuri hummed lightly. He reached over and tugged on some of the long ends of the man’s hair in a pensive manner. “Do you have any hiking clothes up in this billion dollar penthouse?”

__________________

Despite everything, Yuri did not want to be shown off.

While Dimitri was fully aware that the man wanted to be adored—to be shown off like some precious doll, dangling off the strong arm of one of Fódlan's wealthiest and influential bachelors, it would never come to pass; Yuri’s life and safety had always been in the shadows.

_Yuri the man_ who lived in the slums and _Yuri the bird_ who reigned the Abyss were two different people, but were one the same, united by their anonymous nature. If Yuri the man should find himself in the limelight due to being the President of the Blaiddyd Foundation’s private company for the night, it would be hard to operate normally as Yuri the bird. He knew it, Dimitri knew it, and so their mutual company was always enjoyed in the dark—away from the cameras and neon lights of the night city.

Whenever the two spent time together, especially in the past years before Dimitri’s quick ascension into the spotlight, the boys took long walks through the solitary woods behind Rufus’ country house. Of course, this was also before Yuri’s power, at a time where the young man was simply a clever street gang banger who had a strange fascination with night birds and their songs. Now, they were both at the height of their power albeit of two different kingdoms, but the usual boyhood tendencies had never left them, even in a behemoth of a city like Fhirdiad.

They just needed some woods; the modern man with money does not think about hiking through wilderness unless it was controlled and maintained by city officials like the sterile night gardens of downtown Fhirdiad. So the famed deep forests of Northern Fódlan were an ideal spot of romance. At least what Yuri kept saying on the drive over to the hiking trail of the Tailtean Plains.

Dimitri always drove his own car—even after he succeeded Rufus. Numerous times his own executives tried to persuade the young president to hire on a personal chauffeur for transportation, especially with long drives from Fhirdiad to other large cities within and outside the region. Dimitri declined, simply out of the fact that he liked having control over his own drives. And that he wouldn’t be stared at from the passersby in the street at the sight of a high-end sleek black limousine. His vehicle—a heavy-duty Gautier Truck model meant to survive in the harsh winters of the north—was a good enough blend for him to drive in complete peace.

Yuri never minded. In fact, despite his lavish look—wielding the airs of one who appreciates the fine life of the upper class, he greatly appreciated the ‘homeliness’ of the Foundation president; Yuri, himself, had always come from poor roots so exterior vanity never impressed him. Perhaps Dimitri should not have been surprised that Yuri’s idea for a ‘date’ was not an outing at Fhirdiad’s most exclusive restaurant but a solitary hike through nature. They used to do it as boys; nothing changed as men.

Though there was one change, which Dimitri noticed quite intimately when he parked the truck and they headed down the trail—slightly side-by-side though Yuri was always leading: the lilac beauty always spoke to hurt him, to uproot his composure and grip it by the collar roughly.

Any short of contentment and peace Dimitri wielded was all but momentarily—Yuri did his usual predatory grin, reach over, and choked him with a teasing, callous word. He was growing crueler and he knew it, and perhaps it was Dimitri’s bumbling, red-faced response that kept the lilac beauty going. This twisted game of language between them started around Yuri’s climb to power in the Abyss—before then, he was merely being playfully rough for the boy due to the latter’s clear nativity and innocence.

And it was this realization that left Dimitri feeling rather vulnerable when the parking lot—with just Dimitri’s truck, disappeared behind the trees and the trail spit off wider with the greater forest looming over the pair, icy crystals forming on the firs from the usual night cold.

“I think we’re the only ones here tonight,” Yuri said as though he were speaking to himself; a small smile twitched at the corners of his mouth, just in perpetual vision of Dimitri’s eye. “All alone in the woods.”

A little chill went down Dimitri’s back, especially when Yuri slipped his cold hand over his arm, fingers digging deep into the man’s skin. Dimitri was afraid to speak, not trusting his voice in the consuming silence of the woods. Yuri was still leading him despite the men walking together; he was passing through shadows, through darkness, and revealing the ugliness of his beauty in the small slithers of moonlight that passed through the canopy. He was beautiful, but as Dimitri long understood, this beauty was always in the darkness of his realm; in the light, he was as stunning as a freshly sharpened knife before the fatal plunder into the thin, white flesh.

Dimitri spoke at last, but without being in Fhirdiad Tower, his voice came out weak and a gentle hiss, foreign in many ways.

“The Plains are beautiful tonight.”

“Eh. Too much light for my liking. Remember those woods behind your old house in Kleiman? Now those are _woods_ —completely full of trees and blocking out all signs of the outside,” Yuri merely stated as he looked up towards the open spots in the canopy and frowned. “You know, I was really expecting some night joggers here. Isn’t this place supposed to be popular with those stone-calved, green-visor wearing executives?”

“I think they prefer the Fhirdiad Night Park.”

“You mean the park that’s ninety percent cement and ten percent trees and flowers?”

Dimitri squirmed a bit. “I think the glowing lanterns are awfully cute.”

“Oh. So you don’t enjoy the Plains?”

“No, I do, I do!”

“Your face is lying, Dimitri.” Yuri drew close, his fingers taut and possessive. “Tell me, what’s on your mind?”

“I...rather not want to say,” the flustered president said.

“Oh Dima,” Yuri started, irritably amused, “are you refusing to give _me_ an answer?”

Dimitri’s heart fluttered; Yuri knew the answer. He already knew the answer the minute the question left his pretty lips. He smiled ruefully and wanted a response from Dimitri himself. It was not the Plains that caused the man so much anxiety; not the monstrously large trees, exceedingly chilliness or darkness, or even the sheer emptiness of the woods. It was the beast occupying that emptiness in wait.

“Come, there’s this place on the hill we can sit and watch over the entire plains. It’s a great view, especially this late at night,” Yuri said with a feigned voice of friendliness.

The pair had come into the deep pit of the forest where the walking trail had begun to thin out in the darkness. It was so pitch black that even the rays of moonlight could not break through the canopy. However, it was all temporary as blue light glowed at the end of the trail, up towards a clear resting spot for hikers and joggers.

Dimitri walked on silently among the trees, aware of the all-consuming silence that engulfed them. Eventually, the pair broke through the forest and up onto the resting spot—on a hilltop overlooking the plains. Dimitri looked up and saw the vast, black ocean of space; the indifferent waves of twinkling stars and the apathetic moon hovering so absently that he hardly noticed it there. Perhaps it hardly noticed them here.

“Were you gonna give me an answer?” Yuri asked again; his voice, strangely muted.

“You know the answer.”

“Do I?”

Dimitri kept his eye to the heavens, even as the other man turned to look at him in great expectation. Finally, he let out a long, shuddering exhale through his nostrils and lightly touched his forehead, feeling the warmth of fever coming on in the midst of the cold. In the moment, Dimitri felt braver than any moment he felt experienced in his life and he wondered keenly if it was because of his growing delirious state. When those fingers coil so slightly into Dimitri’s arm and down into his open palm, a smile flashing before him from the darkness, he spoke with a far-away voice.

“What are we doing here, Yuri?”

“On a date.”

“I thought we were supposed to go to dinner.”

“After. I wanted to spend some time with you like the old days.” Yuri gave a pregnant pause and he peered off to the side. He was thinking—Dimitri sensed this—but not in the way that suggested that he was choosing his words. Rather, he was choosing his intent for the moment. “Are you not enjoying yourself?” he finally asked, returning to his earlier inquiry.

“I am, but I was not expecting a forest walk to be your ideal romantic spot.”

“My ideal romantic spot is just about anywhere so as long as you’re on your knees,” he teased but it was without his usual bite. Something had been distracting the man and it showed on the sudden absence on his face.

Dimitri chased after it. “Yuri, is there something you wanted to talk to me about and you just need complete privacy?”

“You’ve always been sharper than you let on. Of course, that’s not exactly romantic, is it?”

“Not at all—I love it when you’re more honest with me.”

“I’m _always_ honest with you.”

“I mean more open,” Dimitri corrected gently, especially when Yuri’s hand went soft in his; a moment of affectionate normality between the two men.

“Hah,” Yuri merely laughed as his fingers curled in between the other man’s. It was here that, for the first time in a long time, Dimitri realized how tiny and slender Yuri’s hands were—like a woman’s almost. The skin was smooth, delicate in the way that made anyone holding it feel rather dirty and rough in comparison. It certainly did not help that Dimitri’s own hands were much larger, covered in calluses and discolored patches from years of stress and past violence, which he could not recognize.

However, despite the physical gentleness of Yuri’s hand, there was a certain strength to them that rendered the other man immobilized and speechless—every time he squeezed, every time he poked or even tugged on Dimitri’s arm or hand, the president went mute, unable to move. Yuri stared down at their hands entwined, blinking ever so slowly as if he were trying to make sense of something foreign and out of place, like a piece of modern art in the classic section of a museum. Finally, he lifted his head up, locking eyes with Dimitri, alien and far-away.

“Can I ask you a question? Like a serious question, which I need your complete honesty for.”

This surprised Dimitri greatly for Yuri was never one to ask for his input. It was usually the other way around. The gravity of the air between them, the growing darkness, and the bitter cold of the forest were already signs of a more solemn outing; Dimitri nodded wordlessly and Yuri tilted his head slightly, as if trying to catch his words before he let them out.

“I...have this certain client. They are, perhaps, my most important client, but in a rather unorthodox manner. Unlike most people, they actually don’t pay me for information but illegal goods of a... _anti-human_ nature. You know, like things no person in Fódlan should ever be caught with. And what they use those things for...I cannot say. Quite honestly, this client is a special case so whenever they come to call, I have to be there front and center.”

“They sound like someone you want to keep,” Dimitri said weakly.

“Definitely,” Yuri agreed; for a moment, Dimitri was sure that he was not going to say more and leave it at that. The man’s words were intentionally choppy and absent, as if he were continuously wondering if he should continue. However, Yuri nodded and added, “They are certainly an individual who keeps me on my toes. Of course, I’m sure it’s mutual.”

“With you? I can see it,” Dimitri said politely.

“Anyway, quite recently, they struck me with an unusual that left me speechless for the first time in my life. In fact, I had not been able to give them an answer at all, until I can really think it through...which leads me to you.”

“I’m not so certain that I can be of much use---”

“Dimitri.” Yuri was not looking at him. **An oddity** . He was looking out towards that deep, dark abyss of the Tailtean Plains with an expression not fitting of either a man or a beast, merely a shell without any emotion or passion. **Your cruel king doesn’t recognize the beat of his heart.** His soft, tender hands had suddenly gone cold as they gripped hard around Dimitri’s, as if he were trying to feel the man’s rushing blood. **Does he know that he has a heart?** A soundless shudder; those purple eyes slowly closed into thin slits in the aching darkness. **Is he self-aware like** **_him_ ** **?** Then Yuri the man spoke.

“This client wants information on you.”

Dimitri stopped. A deep, bottomless frown shadowed on the man’s already anxious expression, and he could not help but lean over, wondering if his hearing was poor or had his mind been playing tricks on him. However, Yuri continued, more clearer as if he knew what Dimitri was going to ask next.

“They are explicit in paying me anything I want for five years of info on the newest President of the Blaiddyd Foundation. Scratch that: it’s not your ‘presidency’ they want information on—not like how you asked me about all those figureheads at the Round Table. No, my client wants information on _you_ , Dimitri,” he clarified, emphasizing the last sentence with a dark utterance.

“Why me? I mean, why _me_ ? Wouldn’t my...succession and the Foundation be of more interest?” Dimitri voiced weakly, unable to find his voice properly among his sister’s usual grating quip— **Someone out there seeks to trap you.**

“I never ask why. They just ask and I provide so as long as they have the proper funds,” Yuri said bluntly. But he was still frowning with no absolute pleasure twinkling in the dark of his eyes. Solemnness did not suit the man one bit and Dimitri was greatly unnerved by the bizarre turn of Yuri’s unnatural disposition.

“But what really threw me off was that this particular client _never_ asks me for anyone’s information—they find and plot on his own. A mark of a true, master chess player. Even in the past years we worked together, they never delved into my main services. And so it puzzled me greatly that I could not even answer them.”

“Why. Why are you telling me this, Yuri?”

“You know.”

Dimitri’s single blue eye closed. He navigated through all of his terrors and anxieties to a place that’s always been stationary since he first met the man as a boy—lying in a puddle of blood, half-dead, in a dark alley of downtown Fhirdiad. Yuri was afraid. Yuri was manipulated. Yuri was in danger. Yuri was humanity beyond the confines of his childhood.

He was everything that made Dimitri both frightened and excited for, all in the package of a wickedly beautiful man with an underworld empire. Yuri had always taken joy from the man’s open show of nervousness, how he completely submitted to his will and went limp—like a wet piece of clay, ready to be formed and merged by the hands that held him.

And in the center of this throbbing, dark emotion was a single, dominant thought. It was the one repeated so long ago when they were just boys who used to share a bed—sharing at one another in an attempt to recognize their own realms; one of light and one of darkness. Young Dimitri, despite his nativity and foolishness, recognized the goodness in the injured thug sleeping next to him; the walls were covered in glow-in-the-dark stars and Rufus’s radio was singing hymns again from upstairs, when that young man confessed something in the bitter darkness of his bedroom. Words that were never repeated outside the sanctuary of their boyhood.

“I think...you should do what you have to,” Dimitri said very carefully, remembering that the young man sleeping next to him in memory was feigning sleep.

Yuri’s eyes showed alarm but his voice came out smooth and rich. “You’re not even going to try and stop me?”

“Why would I? It’s your right—not that I ever tried to control what you did before. Beside...I trust you, Yuri.”

“Why? You know my business. You know the things I did—the lives I ruined. I even ended empires as large as yours with the passing of forbidden knowledge and information. A single anonymous release to the press and a company is bankrupt overnight. Why would you trust me after knowing of my nature,” Yuri pushed with a gaily laugh, even shaking his head in disbelief. Had Dimitri paid closer attention, he would have noticed how the corners and underlining of Yuri’s lilac eyes glistened with rare wetness.

“Precisely,” Dimitri confirmed with a tight nod. His single eye glowed in the dark and he could feel a strength pulsing through from his heart. Was that from the boy or the man? Or perhaps the girl that lived in his head. Was she pulling the strings? Should he have taken some medicine before the hike? “I know you. You never, once, attempted to hide anything from me. You made everything of your nature very clear to me. I may be repulsed by most of it, but the fact that I know what I am repulsed at is...comforting.” Dimitri’s bravado faded away to a small hiss until the only thing left was his blushing, schoolboy persona. He stared down at their embracing hands, hoping to hide the tint on his face. “Besides, Yuri, you’re always so secretive to everyone else. You didn’t need to tell me everything. But you did. And honestly, I’d rather be with an honest demon than a smiling killer.”

Perhaps it was the most unconstrained, inglorious, and absolutely naked feeling in the world. Embarrassment. Shame. Were the two not one in the same—brothers in arms meant to bring forth a personal wickedness on the soul. What truly was worse was that the siblings emerged with their pitchforks and blades after the word was said, and all Dimitri could feel with the subsequent stabbing sensation at the pit of his stomach—all the way up to his throbbing, beating heart going a mile away.

If his face was not red before, it certainly was now; Dimitri swerved his head completely to the side, towards the dark, embittered forest—all of this felt so distantly familiar, as if he had been at this spot—not _this_ spot, but another place overlooking the forest.

In that dream-memory, he, too, went pink from a wondrous confession and hid his face. Who was it that he was confessing to? The only person here was Yuri, who immediately grabbed Dimitri’s chin, forced his head back, and captured the shocked man’s lips in a brutal kiss.

They stayed still for a moment, eating into each other quite hungrily with Yuri’s tongue invading Dimitri's soft gasping mouth. Eventually, he pulled away, revealing a rare face of slowing distraught—painfully flustered cheeks and pupils ebbing white with lust and soft affection. Yuri murmured something too low for Dimitri to catch, merely craning his head around and planting small butterfly kisses around the man’s chin and neck.

Then he repeated something—a phrase murmured by the ‘sleeping’ boy many years ago in the sanctuary of their glow-in-the-dark stars covered bedroom.

“Be my lover,” he asked earnestly and nipped at the skin. “Be my _lover_.”

Dimitri laughed; he had committed himself to this long song and dance between them, carefully indulging in the man’s rare moments of impulse—Yuri did not mean it. He said so himself: ‘relationships are bad for business’. No, the man simply got too far into the moment, seeping back and forth between the waters of heightening emotions until they were both drowning.

But Dimitri knew Yuri well: he did not want that commitment. He wanted the present, not the future, and like the dutiful ‘friend’, he stayed true to Yuri’s desires. Dimitri placed both of his hands on the curves of Yuri’s slender hips and squeezed, encouraging him with a silent gesture: _“Just for tonight. Just for tonight.”_

Yuri immediately gave chase once Dimitri gave his consent, gently shoving the larger man down onto his back; he straddled him from above, their mouths connecting hungrily as his hands pawed at Dimitri’s coat, almost irritated as they pulled the helms away, seeking the warmth of skin.

Unfortunately, the Tailtean Plains is notorious for its declining temperatures at night and all Yuri ended up doing was running his hand down Dimitri’s black thermal undershirt, too tight to be pulled away and torn. He groaned, vexed, and settled for rutting his knee against the hardening space between Dimitri’s legs.

“I saw the latest on you,” Yuri growled as the man below him hissed. “You in Gloucester County.”

“Y-Yeah?” Dimitri breathed out; hot pleasure flushed violently in his groin, and he threw his head back.

“Getting chummy with Riegan, huh? That bastard took you to the gardens.”

“It was a good place to chat privately about our companies.”

“Yes, I’m sure walking side by side along the flowers in complete privacy is definitely business appropriate.”

Dimitri blinked. He pulled back just enough to catch the dark expression shadowed on Yuri’s usually placid face. The man was grimacing, the corners of his mouth were twitching, and the grip on his shirt tightened until Dimitri felt the fabric choke around his neck. The northern wind blew between them; soft lilac hair intermixing with strands of gold, and then the flash of white teeth baring down at them. Dimitri could not help but let out a small, incredulous laugh.

“You’re jealous,” he said matter-of-fact.

“I don’t like sharing my toys.”

“Oh, so that’s what I am to you?”

“Come now, Dimitri. What else would you like to be beyond this twisted game of ours? Boyfriends? Husbands? Domestication is not my scene,” Yuri murmured bemused as he licked the side of Dimitri’s face and grinned against the hardening bulge in the man’s pants.

Dimitri’s heart silently stung but not so raw—this was not new between them: his clear intentions for a bond beyond physical flings and mental decapitation, and Yuri’s open rebuffs and insistence on love for the skin and nothing more.

After five years, from boyhood to manhood, this had not changed: the sanctuary of Dimitri’s room first established this when Yuri, bandaged and a bit wonky from a long sleep, slipped his hands between the thin waistband of Dimitri’s sweatpants and smiled like a beast in wait. The soft plea for him to be his lover was true to the intent: to love with hands and sweat and blood, but never beyond that.

Never beyond flesh.

And somehow, Dimitri learned to live with this despite the saddening song in his own heart. In truth, Yuri was his first love—as far as he knew. But hearing the young man brush off the boy’s naïve questions on dating and affection so quickly broke his heart. At the time at least. Dimitri eventually did learn to live with...whatever this relationship was. This arrangement—fucking the store manager to get a discount on goods. But now, Dimitri just felt weary and rather empty as he placed both of his hands on Yuri’s slender hips in silent encouragement. The lilac man hummed lightly and craned his head over, kissing Dimitri fully on the lips.

They fell upon each other with the moon being their only witness.

Dimitri had done with Yuri this a thousand times already. Why didn’t it feel so good? The only thing that echoed at the back of Dimitri’s hollow mind as Yuri unzipped Dimitri’s fly was but a single image:

_A bleeding night, illuminated by the soft glow of garden lanterns and the dim glory of a bustling mansion. The clink of wine glasses and million-dollar laughter. In the far distance, car lights slowly slip out and towards the landscape to the neighboring cities and provinces._

_They stood at the front steps of the manor, their long and intoxicating conversation coming to a sad close—neither men wanted to part. But when that blue car pulled up to the curb, the man with dark green eyes was the first to lean forward with a smile. It was but a second—near the mouth as typical of eastern greetings. And yet, intimacy burned like a hot, raw brand._

_The one eyed man saw stars despite the night sky absent of their light. A murmur against his skin and a deep promise for reunion. When they pulled away, the night was already over. Everything else after that parting was merely moving along—incomprehensible flashes and mess of nonsense. Nothing else mattered after that._

_And that was all he wrote._

____________________

“ _Are you feeling better?” Dimitri asked softly._

_He leaned over his bed, not too close as to spook the wounded boy laying beneath the warm covers. A pair of lilac eyes leered at him from the darkness, not so much in accusation but in a deep and intriguing observation._ _A bit of hunger he could not recognize._ _Dimitri stayed right near his bedside, close to where he_ _laid down the tray of tea and medicine he brought in from downstairs._

_The room smelled of Albinean Berries_ _and baked biscuits,_ _and the various star and moon stickers that littered_ _the walls and ceiling glowed with the coming of night._

_Neither of them said a word to each other._ _The house creaked and moaned with age; Rufus’s radio was going off_ _upstairs._ _Then Dimitri shifted forward nervously,_ _pouring a cup of_ _hot_ _tea as his eye trained on the silent figure,_ _resting in bed._

“ _Uncle_ _says that you can stay with us as long as you need to. He and my friend went out to grab some fever medicine for you in case you feel a chill coming on,” he said. The boy gently placed the pot back down and loomed over his house guest in a nervous expectation, cup of steaming tea in his shaky hands._

_The boy did not move to accept the drink. Dimitri said back down with a low sigh and was about to put the cup away on the tray when a deep, embittered voice interrupted his thoughts._

“ _Why did you save me?”_

_Dimitri stopped; he peered over and saw that the boy had sat up. The blanket was somewhat pushed back and he was somewhat leaning forward, purple eyes drawn together in a mixture of suspicion and doubt. The room turned chilly with tension and Dimitri placed the tea cup down gently._

“ _Why didn’t you just leave me there to die?” the boy asked once again, his voice sharper with more edge._

“ _I don’t know,” Dimitri finally said. He did not realize that his own voice was shaking, with a violent spasm climbing up his chest as his house guest scowled. “I just saw you there and I acted on my instincts.”_

“ _You don’t even know who I am.”_

“ _Does that matter? You were hurt and needed help.”_

“ _I didn’t ask for your help,” the boy said, fiercely serene but absolutely livid._

“ _You couldn’t ask for help because you were unconscious.”_

“ _I---”_

_He stopped, the words caught at the base of his throat and choking out physically in front of Dimitri. A current of compulsion moved through the young man’s shivering hands and he let them fall to his side, watching the lilac beauty stare him down from the dark corner of the room. Finally, the house guest sat back, still so bitterly hostile in his silence, but gestured for Dimitri to bring him the cup of tea._

_Dimitri complied but when he reached cautiously over to pass the boy the drink, it was roughly slapped out of his grip and onto the carpet with a clatter. A hand grabbed his throat and violently threw him down onto the bed, pinning him tightly against the sheets._

_Dimitri went still as a corpse from the grip on his throat, blank-faced, arms limp, and he stared up at the leering boy that straddled him from above. He could not feel his blood rushing. He could not feel his fingers. He could not breathe save for a few huffs. And the predator above him growled and leaned forward._

“ _You don’t know who I am. Whose to say that I won’t rape and murder you, right here and now? Your uncle is gone. Your buddy is gone. I could do whatever I want with you, pretty boy,” he hissed out, his fingers tightening around the base of Dimitri’s throat._

“ _You could,” Dimitri said and he was not lying. Despite his own strength, there was something about his guest that purely emitted malevolence and rage, beyond his own capabilities of defense._

“ _Why did you save me?” The boy repeated once again, clearly unhappy with the earlier answer._

“ _I didn’t want you to die. I don’t want anyone to die.”_

“ _I could kill you.”_

“ _I know. You can. I won’t stop you.”_

_They did not move from their positions. It was clear that the boy had not slept since he arrived at the country house and was awake to the point of irritation; Dimitri had been awake tending to him and was close to slipping towards unconsciousness right then and there. The latter shut his eyes, shaking a bit, and he waited for the eventual vice to close around him in a deadly choke._

_Finally, the boy slowly removed his hand and the relief of his absence was felt like a cool chill. He slinked back into the corner of the room, eerily silent, with his balled up figure appearing nothing more but a dulled color against the wall. From where Dimitri laid, he almost looked like a figure lost in a shadowy romanticist landscape—pale and beauty, but half-disappearing._

_Dimitri pushed himself up but made no attempt to scramble for an escape._

“ _You’re stupid. You should not be going around, picking dangerous strays, little boy,” his house guest murmured from the shadows, hugging his bony knees to his chest. Dimitri could see how that body tightened against the corner of the room, muscles tensed and scarred skin frighteningly still._

_Not a killer but a confused, lost animal._

“ _You’re not dangerous though,” Dimitri said, half coughing as he rubbed his throat. There was a disoriented halt to his breathing as if every inhale physically stung._

“ _I could have killed you.”_

“ _But you didn’t.”_

_In the moment of stilled shock passing through the boy’s body, Dimitri summoned a gentle and forgiving smile when their eyes met—lilac to blue, and he leaned over in a rare show of bravery. He took the boy’s limp hands, brought them back up to his neck, watching expressions go from mild shock to pure white and suffocating paralysis._

“ _Go ahead. If you think you’re so dangerous, kill me. I won’t fight you.”_

_When the boy failed to grasp Dimitri’s neck, he allowed those limbs to drop back down on the bed and sat back, nodding slowly with withdrawal. “See?”_

“ _You’re...you’re something else.”_

“ _I took a chance. I think it paid off well.”_

_The boy hadn’t quite relaxed, but his shoulders did sag a bit and he allowed himself to slip down under the covers as Dimitri watched him attentively, still rubbing the bruised skin around his throat. He smiled and scooted over, now sensing the rare stalemate between them. Though neither of them did not speak for a long time. There was no sound by the occasional car passing by and the howl of the wind against the glass, with the faint rustle of the forest nearby._

_Dimitri smiled gently. “My name is Dimitri, by the way,” he said in a patient tone that suggested the boy did not have to respond back._

_But he did, and in a voice Dimitri had never heard from him before. Like a bird’s pleasant melody._

“ _Yuri.”_

____________________

Dimitri can only count to ten.

_One, two, three…_

Lorenz is going off, a story that began at the truffle brunch place in upper Derdriu and is still going strong when the pair reached the boardwalk. The ocean was singing, the people were laughing, the machines of the carnival creaked slowly into life. And the sun glowed over the eastern horizon.

_Three, four, five…_

The air of Derdriu was always warm and sickly sweet like spring in Southern Fódlan; the beach in the near distance shimmered ivory and gold, and the waves came up pure azure. And Lorenz was still chatting over the city’s constant lullaby.

_Six, seven, eight…_

Dimitri knows how to nod. He knows how to hum with a certain sound to indicate interest. He knows how to look with his eyes—only briefly, and smiles placidly. He learned to mimic Sylvain in excellent feigned listening to those who aren’t Felix, Ingrid, or himself. A perfectly sculpted mask.

_Nine…_

Lorenz likes to wave his hands around when he talks. It’s dramatic, theatrical, and over-the-top, and it does little to sway Dimitri’s lack of interest. It’s superficial, the man is superficial, but he’s strangely cordial and noble in ways Dimitri recognizes a triumph of a truly virtuous character; Dimitri makes the effort to smile and nod. The waves are calling out to him, a pleasant lull of a siren and Dimitri’s mask briefly slips when he realizes that he could no longer hear Lorenz. They stopped right along the edge of the boardwalk, looking over the sparkling sea and crystal bay. Lorenz was smiling at him—finished.

_Ten._

“That’s one great story, Lorenz,” Dimitri recited like a well-trained show parrot, even tilting his head a bit to reveal a small white smile.

Sylvain was an amazing teacher.

“Goddess, I feel like I can tell you everything!” The Gloucester CEO declared and leaned his entire lanky form over the boardwalk. He was not wearing his usual heeled boots but a pair of loafers; Dimitri realized that he could not really look over Lorenz’s head and to the carnival in the distance.

_We’re the same height…_

**Yeah but he’s like a daddy long legs though. Dimitri, look at how skinny his legs are—** **_look_ ** **.**

Dimitri restricted snickering at Edelgard’s passing remark; he’ll still have to retake his medication later, perhaps after Lorenz returned back to Gloucester County once they were finished here. And Dimitri could spend the rest of his weekend conference exploring the sunny eastern region for subsequent peace and liberty. He could avoid all the hustle bustle of upper Derdriu and their triple digit seafood and actually look at all the pretty handmade goods from seashells and dried seaweed, and walk along the beach without a care in the world. For now, he will have to endure his overly expensive companion just a bit longer.

“I’m quite glad you could make a formal visit out here this month. You’ll see that our little golden paradise is more than financially secure for any future collaboration,” Lorenz continued, gesturing to the sparkling monoliths in the backdrop of Derdriu to the crystal waters of the coastline. “Of course, you’ll see more benefit with my company first and foremost.”

“Naturally,” Dimitri half-agreed, remembering Goneril’s private militarization—maybe he could convince Hilda to redirect funding to more foreign exchange programs. “I’m truly grateful that you’re showing me around—Derdriu is breathtaking.”

Lorenz’s laughter rang like a thousand church bells. “Yes, every newcomer thinks so though I find all the handmade seashell necklaces and carnival food a bit...homey.”

“I think you’re just used to...grander tastes,” Dimitri remarked kindly.

“Oh indeed! Not that the eastern capital is lesser than Fhirdiad and Enbarr of course.”

“Hm, wouldn’t it be more beneficial then if you were to move the company here? You’ll have direct access to the port and it’s closer to the northern coastline of Fraldarius.”

Lorenz scoffed but it was hardly spiteful. He then nodded off towards the other side of the Derdriu coastline to the main beaches of the city. Jutting from the sparkling, blue sea was a golden tower, shining brightly like a fine mirror against the shimmering eastern coastline. The sun even reflected harsh rays from its surface and Dimitri had to avert his eyes momentarily before blinking the initial irritation away. There was a large bridge connecting the main land of Derdriu to the golden tower and Dimitri could see a continuous stream of people flooring in and out—colors melding together in red, blue, and yellow.

“See that? That hard-to-miss eyesore on the eastern horizon,” Lorenz remarked with a sneer. “That’s Riegan Tower—the headquarters for Riegan Tech. Derdriu had been _their_ city for decades. If I were to move here, which makes sense from a financial standpoint, I would directly compete with the home team.”

Dimitri gave an uneasy laugh. “Come now, Derdriu is huge! You can’t tell me that it’s not enough for both corporations.”

“Dimitri, Riegan owns the capital and probably a good chunk of the east. Stepping on _his_ territory would ask for war. But you know how he can be…,” Lorenz muttered darkly and wiped his nose with a light sniffle.

“Claude was so nice when I met him though.”

“When you met---”

Lorenz stopped. The elegant man’s eyes briefly passed over Dimitri, some strange recognition that deeply and bitterly disturbed him. Confusion? Shock? Either way, Dimitri edged from the fence and kept his eye straight towards Riegan Tower, sparkling in the middle of that great blue sea. The breeze passed over the water and through the soft locks of Dimitri’s hair, which he tied back into a short ponytail; it tasted faintly like salt, much stronger than the northern winds of Fraldarius, and Dimitri momentarily reminded himself to try out some of the local confectionery stalls later on—once Lorenz left, of course.

Such homey activities would not suit him.

“Ah, I forgot,” Lorenz finally uttered and blinked rapidly before turning back to the crystal coastline with an unreadable expression. “You lost your memory.”

“Yes,” Dimitri said, somewhat hesitant. He leaned in close, frowning. “Why? Were Claude and I not close back in school?”

The Gloucester CEO snorted in his refined high strung fashion, bemused. “Goddess, no. You two were _very_ close. So much so that Riegan made it evidently clear that you were ‘forbidden’ territory.”

“F-Forbidden territory? What is that supposed to mean?” Dimitri’s eye widened, his voice breaking composure. His cheeks burned with embarrassment even as something dark swirled thick in the pit of his stomach and Edelgard’s voice rose.

**You know what he means.**

Deep down, Dimitri was worried—worried that many of these small reunions he had been experiencing up until now was with anyone past Dimitri made an enemy of. And Claude, especially, had given him nothing but a restless anxiety. Were they enemies? Rivals? Did that smile hide a dagger behind it? The Dimitri now did not know—he was solely dependent on the words of others, which was dangerous in and of itself. And so far, _no one_ had any word on Claude’s character than the media.

“Nevermind,” Lorenz dismissed, shaking his head. “That’s all in the past. What matters now is business. Besides, the last thing I want to do is force you to remember things when you possibly can’t. Please take no offense to this, Dimitri, but five years without any progress...your amnesia looks like it might be permanent, right?”

“I suppose so…,” Dimitri muttered absently; his eye was still tracing over the gleaming monolith in the sea.

He was trying desperately hard not to show face in front of Lorenz—he did not want the Gloucester CEO to see the clear, throbbing pain on his face. To see the extent of his failure. Instead, he stared idly towards and sea and pretended to distract himself with the crowds of laughing visitors crossing the bridge.

All he wanted to do today was visit the fisherman’s market and try the local cuisine, maybe bring back some seashells for Dedue. Not to be personally attacked by a purple daddy long legs over his lack of memory. He has already been beating himself up for the past five years for this defect.

Lorenz yawned, signaling the end of his underlying assault without one notion of Dimitri’s sheering pain, and he gave the man a half-smile.

“Well then—how about some lunch before I head back to the country, hm? I know a good lobster place in upper Derdriu,” he suggested lightly with his usual hand wave.

Dimitri turned back to the man after taking in his usual dosage of medication in expert discretion, and nodded with a practiced smile. He began the count once again at one.

____________________

The sun had set low below the eastern horizon by the time Lorenz waved Dimitri goodbye from the small slit of his private limousine back to Gloucester county. Dimitri’s stomach aches somewhat from all the lobsters stuffed down his throat, and he loitered a bit by the shadowed bay, allowing the thinning cool waves to flush against his bare feet. Dimitri lifted his head up and watched as the fishing boats returned to the docks, readying their catch for Derdriu’s famous fish night markets.

In the near distance on the boardwalk, the carnival lights lit up against the darkening sky, blinking blue and white with various, flashing patterns—children laughed out loud with the whirl of quickening machines and the Ferris wheel slowly creaked into life with swirling neon lights; the cabins glowed gently and Dimitri could see couples chatting inside.

To his right and over by the water stood Riegan Tower, which illuminated in the darkness in a strange, golden sheen, sparkling in the middle of that black ocean. The bridge to Riegan tower was still flowing with a healthy current of visitors. In fact, Dimitri just realized that Derdriu was much more active at night with the carnival and markets and other tourist attractions—just like Fhirdiad.

Somehow, this saddened him deeply.

Seteth always encouraged him to do things with other people or at least bring them along to combat the usual loneliness that followed him. Dimitri could be at the most beautiful place in the world, could have all the wealth known to man, and could be universally loved only to feel the bottomless weight of being alone. He stared down at the water as it ran up against his calves, frowning a bit at all the couples walking up and down the beach, smelling of fried dough and fish.

He missed Fhirdiad. Dimitri shook his head. No, not Fhirdiad—he missed his friends. And unlike him, they all had their own lives to tend to, their own priorities beyond tending to the wandering CEO. Even someone like Dedue who had always been at his side since day one had a life outside of the Blaiddyd Foundation. They were all moving away from him, the lines connecting him and his only family and remnants of a past unknown growing further and further until one day, Dimitri was sure he could not see their figures in the distance any longer.

Sylvain and Felix were married and set to permanently live in Gautier once the honeymoon was over, Ingrid had become deeply involved with ‘personal’ business aside from the company in Enbarr, Dedue and Ashe had the restaurant in downtown Fhirdiad, and Mercedes and Annette were finishing up graduate school and onto a doctorate program.

And then there was Dimitri. Fódlan's most ‘eligible’ bachelor and billionaire was in love with an underworld king who would never reciprocate his feelings beyond sex and money, and who still hasn’t retrieved his memories despite extensive treatment from the country’s best medical and psychological experts. He was rich, mindless, hopelessly infatuated, and alone.

Children were laughing at the carnival; a clown machine hollered wildly; Dimitri closed his eyes and breathed out through his mouth slowly.

_Why am I here? Why am I feeling like shit when I shouldn’t be? Is there anyone more selfish than I?_

And he was tired.

Dimitri was so tired. He truly did wish he was back in the north, back in his loft in Fhirdiad Tower. He wished Ingrid was back from her investigation and not so clearly seduced by the head opera singer as implied in her official report. He wished he brought Dedue though he understood that this weekend was the restaurant’s opening and Ashe needed him there. He wished Sylvain and Felix was back from their one-year honeymoon—or at least, reply to Dimitri’s text updates.

_[Automatic Message] We're on vacation right now and may not attend your calls and text. We will contact you after 12 months_

He knew that they muted the chat—Felix was incredibly committed to ignoring others and Dimitri lost any hope that neither of the newly weds would give a passing glance to his messages. But he could not help himself.

Maybe Dimitri should call them? But he just missed them and that was no emergency. He stared at his phone, the string of his happy messages still left on ‘ _delivered_ ’. Would it be so bad if he called the couple up just to hear their voices again? Even Felix’s, twisted in sharp irritation.

Dimitri shivered as the darkening waves washed up against his toes; his thumb hovered hesitantly over Sylvain’s number. There was so many things he wanted to tell them:

About the results of the Round Table Talk. About making new friends despite the limitations set against him. About the future projects he’ll be working on.

About Claude. Mostly Claude. All about Claude.

Dimitri was a terribly love struck fool and he knew it. It was the same way many years ago when he first rescued Yuri from the dark abyss—the sight of the lilac beauty with a tongue dipped in honey and a forceful nature captured the young man so entirely that he was still feeling the ripples of their first meeting. Perhaps his intense feelings for Claude was the same—unbalanced and probably unreciprocated. Claude was wickedly handsome, rich, and even more successful and charismatic than Dimitri. The kiss they shared that night was most likely an eastern Fódlan custom—Lorenz did that same to Dimitri this morning albeit, more light and chaste. And it was on both cheeks rather than the lips.

But probably a custom which he mistook for affection. Claude was renowned to be a lighthearted flirt and Dimitri knew he took things too seriously.

But he still wanted to talk to someone—anyone. Even in this oceanic paradise where he’s surrounded by good food, amazing sights, and wonderful locals, he just wanted to be with his family again. Dimitri stared longingly at Sylvain’s number, his thumb just about to tap on the phone icon to initiate the call before a sharp whistle assaulted his ears.

Dimitri turned around.

He could not hear himself.

He was falling so far and so fast towards the golden-blue earth that everything blurred to mere smudges with the exception of the sight before him: a king of the earth, sweetly tan skin glistening wet from an exposed chest and alluring eyes of deep, deep green—a forest stretching endlessly until it disappeared into the black horizon. And there, the white crescent moon smile of an approaching predator flashed.

“C-Claude,” Dimitri murmured breathlessly as he tucked his phone back into his pocket.

Like a captivated sailor to a siren on a rock, he drifted automatically to Claude’s approaching form on the beach, his mind suddenly mirthless and still as if he had taken a sedative. The man chuckled—a sound like thick, rich bourbon to Dimitri’s ears, and he found himself being pulled into an intoxicatingly warm embrace; Claude’s sweet amusement continued to ring deeply into his ear until a dark whisper hummed pleasantly.

“You should have told me that you were in town, handsome. I would have stolen you away for a day of fun,” Claude muttered as he pulled Dimitri close to his muscular chest—their hearts beating in unison.

The other man felt the blood swell to his head, his vision dizzying like spell, and Dimitri gave a drunken laugh.

“I wish I could but Lorenz was entertaining me.”

“Please don’t ruin the mood by bringing _him_ up,” Claude groaned out.

“And what mood is this supposed to be?”

The man gave Dimitri a playful squeeze and pulled back so their eyes met; Claude grinned whitely as though he had won the lottery and leaned forward until their foreheads touched. Dimitri’s heart swelled dangerously and he staggered a bit.

“You look _really_ good by the way,” Claude murmured as he slinked his hand over and pulled the loose strand of Dimitri’s hair away from his eye patch and slipped it right behind his ear—callused, rough fingers. “Did you really dress _this_ deliciously for Lorenz? I’m jealous, Dima.”

“No, no. It’s actually a part of my business tour around Eastern Fódlan. You know, going around, visiting different business heads. I had appointments with Lorenz, Hilda, and Judith this weekend so it’s a lot of travel.”

“And so you decided to visit Derdriu without thinking of contacting me?”

“Well, I…” Dimitri stopped, feeling his cheeks burn from a growing shame; he tore his eyes away from Claude’s smiling face, already sensing the growling irritation in the man’s feigned tone of composure.

In truth, he did not think of asking Claude for the shallow reason of still feeling overwhelmed from their first meeting—he needed room to sort out the confusion caused by Claude’s presence and the strange intensity that came on from it all. He didn’t understand why he was so torn over and vulnerable from simply speaking with the man—he hardly felt that with anyone else he met that night. And even now, Dimitri’s walls were being broken down and Claude hardly said anything yet.

Why was he feeling this way?

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri ultimately offered, keeping his gaze down towards the water spreading out on the shore and against his stiff legs.

Suddenly, a warm hand grasped under his chin and gently forced him to look. Dimitri blinked and stared right at Claude’s devastatingly handsome face, half-smiling in amusement and another emotion he could not quite pick up. The light and noises around them slowed until there was nothing but smudges and hollow echos bouncing off the walls and rumbling deep between them.

“You can make it up to me by accompanying me this evening,” Claude suggested lowly and leaned in close until their lips were inches apart. “Let me show you _my_ Derdriu.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Who says this is up for negotiations?” The man murmured, grinning a bit to reveal the pure white of his teeth. His hands, clutched on both sides of Dimitri’s arms, squeezed—not to hurt or even leave a mark, but as if to remind Dimitri of his presence and the position he was in now.

Dimitri swallowed down the throbbing excitement in his throat and gave a soundless nod, allowing himself a small smile as Claude’s strong hand slinked into his, fingers latching into one another in a possessive cling. He pulled away, winking playfully, and tugged Dimitri along towards the glowing spectacle of the carnival and the fish market.

Dimitri could not feel his hand in Claude’s tight grasp. All he could feel was the steady pulse of blood flowing through his veins, through his arm and up to his neck in a wicked pace. Claude moved with so much natural momentum, like the swing of a newton cradle, clicking back and forth with the force of the shifting earth. And Dimitri could do nothing more but follow the flow of gravity, desire flooding deep within him in a shudder. He should have said no, retired to his hotel room for the evening for tomorrow’s drive to Fódlan's Throat, and be done with it all.

Somehow, Claude’s presence managed to override all logic in the man’s head, and he went along like a sheep to its beckoning shepherd, hand and hand through the darkness.

____________________

As Dimitri expected, Claude’s ‘Derdriu’ was the one kept away from him by Lorenz—the true heart of the golden seaside capital.

The first thing he brought Dimitri to was the night fish market. Dimitri remembered quiet fondly from the current travel guide to Derdriu that one of the most best places to visit and experience was the famous night market—located right on the eastern coastline by the main ports, the fisherman would bring over their freshest, most impressive catch on display in a central warehouse as the customers flooded in.

Dimitri was immediately met with the roaring sound of men screaming over each other, their hands clutching bills and pointing to different sizes of giant tuna and lobsters as they fought over each other. Claude explained with a bit of humor to his voice that the market provided the best catch in the entire country and chefs from all over came just to grab the freshest product.

The chaotic, vicious energy that swept up the market floor as workers in orange jumpsuits pushed out giant loads of fish from gigantic boats docked at the port, customers scrambling along the wet warehouse floor, and the fishermen slamming their fists on metal pillars in an attempt to calm the crowds down.

Dimitri looked all around like a misplaced child, still so memorized by the unknown world they found themselves in, but with a heightening tension of getting lost in the chaos; Claude kept his hand locked into Dimitri’s, winked, and pulled the man along with a gentle attentiveness. They reached the end of the warehouse where he showed Dimitri the true spectacle of the night market: the auction house. Chefs from all over stand by, picket number in hand, and watching as the auctioneer bellowed out wildly.

He gestured towards, perhaps, some of the most impressive looking catches Dimitri ever seen—blue marlins, sharks, and even coelacanths were place in iced display boxes for the entire crowd to see. People hopped out of their seats, screaming at one another in an attempt to outbid the other, and the pair watched in mixture of awe and bemusement for an hour as the thousand-dollar fish was sold one by one.

Once the shouting died, Claude took Dimitri’s hand and gestured silently out the warehouse towards other sights beyond. The carnival sang in the near distance on the boardwalk and without a hint of shame, the Riegan CEO dragged his memorized guest into the glowing paradise of fried foods, cotton candy, and the lights of whirling titans. They went in, hand-by-hand, and Dimitri could only stare in a red-faced awe as people around them cooed sweetly. and threw whistles and compliments to Claude’s way.

It was here that Dimitri noticed Claude’s status among the people. The man made absolutely no attempt to hide himself in public and dressed with as little subtlety as a clown—that being, walking so plainly among the people that he made it very clear who he was. It did not take a genius to know what Claude von Riegan looked like.

And yet, as the pair moved from the beach to the night market to the carnival, the man was met with nothing but warm greetings, shouting over stalls and plates of fried dough—the vendors would call out the CEO’s name in a friendly voice, raise their hands up in a good-natured wave; Claude grinned widely a winked at them, sometimes giving them a humorous finger gun as he passed by.

Dimitri should not have been so surprised; as Lorenz so bitterly stated, Derdriu was Claude’s city—these were his people. And they all loved him as subjects to a benevolent king. Perhaps it was the act of seeing Claude’s glory showcased so vividly to him that Dimitri felt his heart throb with dangerous thoughts, more belonging to a naive teenager than a grown man.

Somehow, these feelings multiplied when Claude began to take him around the carnival grounds. The sights and smells were wondrous with an absolute euphoria intoxicating him dearly. All the foods were ones Dimitri only heard about as Northern Fódlan hardly cared for such things: caramel popcorn, bubblegum cotton candy, fried dough, corn dogs, steak tips—Claude ended up surprising Dimitri with a plate of fries slathered in bacon bits and cheese.

Dimitri couldn’t taste—hasn’t tasted a thing since he woke up five years ago.

Yet the strange, warm sensation of cheese and simply the smell alone always filled him, bring him closer and closer to what he could only describe as taste. He ate the fries while he and Claude strolled around the carnival grounds, taking in every crunchy part of the bacon bits and melted cheese—Claude made no attempt to hide his amusement, eyeing him closely as they went down the alleyways.

Eventually, for a reason Dimitri could not quite place, he and Claude ended up riding on the Ferris wheel. The Riegan CEO pointed to the magnificent, turning spectacle on the edge of the boardwalk, overlooking all of Derdriu and its splendor. The cabins were not traditional—rounded and made completely of thick glass. The Ferris wheel operator gave an over dramatic bow to Claude—a subject to his king, and gestured for the pair to enter the glass cabin.

It went up and up. And then it stopped completely.

The wind howled against the cabin, shaking it a bit; all of Derdriu, shimmering lights of gold and red in the oceanic darkness, upon the cliffs overlooking the sea and all the way out to the water where the boats glowed with blue night lights. Riegan Tower shined in the middle of the water with a faint red light blinking at the very top. And in the distance behind it, Dimitri could see the port tower of the Fraldarius coast, blinking in and out faintly.

And that splendor turned inward to sorrow.

“It’s beautiful,” Dimitri murmured softly, his hands sprayed out against the glass and he stared out towards the sea, covered in small lights all the way to the north. The sky was an endless sea of stars and Dimitri felt as though he were peering in between the reflections of a mirror.

“Indeed. There is no other sight best suited to see Derdriu than here,” Claude said beside him; the man leaned forward on the inner railing and kept his eyes trained on Dimitri. He was smiling.

“I wish Lorenz showed me this. All he wanted to do was walk around the cliff districts of upper Derdriu and eat at the most expensive restaurants.”

“That’s very typical of Gloucester. He actually hates coming down so low here—where the actual people live and work. Perhaps he’s afraid that he might get robbed.”

“In Derdriu? I highly doubt it. It seems like the locals here all care for each other—and you.”

“Come now, I’m sure Fhirdiad is the same,” Claude remarked lightly.

Dimitri raised a brow. “Have you ever been to Fhirdiad?”

“No.” The man tilted his head, sporting a soft smile; he slipped closer to Dimitri and not-so-subtly placed a warm hand over his on the inner railing. “But if I ever do visit, I should hope you would personally show me around.”

“That’s a promise.” Dimitri smiled back at him, no longer feeling any sort of initial shame but the weariness of a good day.

Claude’s presence was merely a softening aroma that swelled his head and made him sleepy. The cabin began to creak from the wind and Dimitri staggered a bit; Claude’s arm latched out and caught him, letting out a light chuckle. They stood against each other momentarily and Dimitri felt hot water sloshing around in his head. Why was he like this?

“The Ferris wheel doesn’t seem to be moving,” Dimitri commented nervously, peering all around the lit up city below them.

“Would it be so bad that I signaled for our good man down below to let us truly enjoy the sights for a few minutes?” The man said and pulled away, but not completely separating himself from Dimitri—their hands were still latched together as it has been all night. “Besides. It gives us time to talk. To...catch up.”

“We were close back in school?”

“Are you stating a fact or asking me?”

“Asking you?”

Claude chuckled. “Yes, I suppose we were _close_. Though I must say, I’m surprised that you haven’t recovered any of your memories in the past five years.”

“I know.”

“And...nothing you have done was able to bring anything back? Anything at all?”

Dimitri shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about this. Even in his private therapy sessions with Seteth, absolutely no progress came from it. Not even a revelation. Everything in his life has been building up to had solely come from the goodwill and love of his friends. And even they were strangers to him in one way or another. He could never truly be close to them as the original Dimitri was—and they all knew it.

“I...no. Nothing. I lost my past and now, I can’t even recognize people who were once important to me. I’m just a shell, walking around, and using Dimitri’s face and voice without any regard to who he was,” he stated beneath his breath in a low hiss, his hands clenching so tightly onto the railing that he could feel the metal dent right before his fingers. “Please, I really don’t want to talk about this.”

“I understand,” Claude said softly and he did not remove his hand from Dimitri’s. “It’s a sore spot and I won’t upset you on a night like this. I just wanted to let you know that you were very important to me in the past.”

His smile was solemn and infuriatingly patient as if he were talking to a wild animal caught in the backyard. Yet his body language suggested otherwise and Claude stepped closer—brave and without any trepidation. Dimitri’s body went still from the sudden contact on the back of his neck and Claude leaned in close as if he were sharing a secret.

“You wanna know what’s your past with me, Dima? We used to date back in school. We used to kiss and hold hands like a married couple walking along the beach.” His grip tightened gently. “And _other_ things.”

Dimitri’s ears burned red. He was too startled by the great force of Claude’s words to hold a strong voice. “Y-You’re teasing me, right?”

“Not at all. You were—are very precious to me. Why did you think I was so adamant to keep you all to myself during the last hours of the Round Table Talk?”

“I...I don’t know what to say.” Dimitri was doing a close impression of being in control when, in reality, the moment he met Claude, control had long his fingers.

The latter sensed this and pressed himself closer, forcing Dimitri away from the railing where he left imprints of his fingers dented in the metal; he held the man within an arm’s length away, both hands clutched on both sides of his shoulders. Dimitri and Claude stared at one another, taking in the strength of their own presence in a quiet awe.

Finally, Claude spoke.

“You lost your memory so it would not be right of me to ask this of you. But my feelings for you have not changed at all. In fact, looking at you now—just talking and being near you, it…” He laughed and shook his head, loose strands of chocolate hair falling over his dark green eyes. The man looked tired. “I still very much love you.”

“I’m not the same Dimitri you once knew. I don’t think I can ever be _him_ ,” Dimitri muttered so lowly, it was nearly inaudible. His heart was beating in his ear—he could not hear the wind outside the cabin. And the only that existed in the small space they occupied was him. And the man right in front of him. Sickly beautiful and sharply painful to look at.

Somewhere below them, someone began to play the accordion, singing a folk song only known to those in Eastern Fódlan. He felt like crying and Dimitri was not sure why.

What was wrong with him?

“I know, Dima. But I don’t care. We can start over again. You and me,” Claude said patiently, his smile so warm that the coolness of the cabin lessened from its heat. He then pulled Dimitri close until their faces were inches apart and held himself right there—in wait, in anticipation. He blinked rapidly as if he were trying to wake himself from an extremely pleasant dream and sighed out slowly. “We can begin once again.”

“Claude.”

Nothing else was said. Dimitri was not sure who leaned in first. Was it him? Claude’s fingers threaded through the back of Dimitri’s hair, tugging ever so lightly as their lips captured each other in a hungry kiss. Dimitri’s hand unconsciously slipped over the man’s strong back and held on for dear life as he felt an invading tongue slip between his teeth—and Dimitri, in his youthful greediness, softly nibbled Claude’s bottom lip until he tasted something metallic. Claude’s hand slowly crept over his chest, under his suit and dress shirt and right at where Dimitri’s hidden arrow wound was—possessive. They moved automatically and in response to each other’s body, without any hesitation.

When they pulled away in a soft gasp, they rested their foreheads together as if they were a reflection from two sides of a mirror—one body, one heart, one soul. It was all white noise to Dimitri’s ears, nothing but trivial pieces of speech in his mind to the memories that surfaced from earlier this week.

Suddenly, he had forgotten all about his friends, about Fhirdiad, about _Yuri_. All he saw that stood in front of him in that very moment was Claude. The man kept his intense stare at Dimitri licked the blood tinkling from a lover's bite and smiled—a bit flushed and intoxicated. He wrapped one arm around Dimitri’s neck and pulled him down into a rare dreamlike peace as his other hand, which laid over his arrow wound clenched into a tight fist.

“I have been waiting five years for you, Dimitri.” His voice was soft snow against the man’s skin, his devotion seeping through like water. “I love you, my lion.”

A bell rang. It rang so loud and so clear that it struck Dimitri like a speeding truck towards a poor deer crossing the road. The impact was even greater and he felt his vision flash white and red, pulsing wildly of blood meeting the cool air. It sheered through his skin, into his flesh, into his bones, and out the other side.

Dimitri went stiff and allowed the sensation to overtake his limbs, slowly and very merciful, taking over.

____________________

_Dimitri never saw it coming._

_He was walking along the forest when he felt the darkness strike against him so sharply, he lost all of his senses for just a few seconds before the colors returned to him painfully. At first, he was not sure where he was exactly—not where he was, originally, but a few feet away._

_He blinked himself into life, watching as his vision throbbed from black to white, and then the full reunion of red, blue, yellow, and green in wondrous patterns—a forest. He was taking a walk through the forest, he remembered that now. And yet, he could not feel himself. It was all so numb and nothing made sense._

_Except for the image of a figure watching him closely, just inches away. The details slowly sharpened and Dimitri found himself staring back at an extremely handsome young man—warm-skinned and eyes so green, he wondered if he were still lost in the depths of the woods. His shuddering breath was all he could let out in response._

“ _H-Hello?” He stuttered weakly, eyes furrowed in a mixture of pain and confusion._

“ _Hello there, handsome,” the boy whispered breathlessly with an enamored smile._

_Dimitri felt his lips tug ever so lightly at his companion’s hushed words and he tried moving, only for pain to sheer through his right shoulder like burning fire. He groaned like a dying animal, huffing in panicked puffs, and he sagged down only to realize that he was half standing. When Dimitri lifted his weakened head and peered over, he noticed an enormous arrow sticking out of body, pinning him to the trunk of the tree._

“ _What happened? Why do I have an arrow sticking out of me?” He muttered weakly, eyes so laser focused on his shoulder that he never noticed how intently the other boy had been staring at him, memorized._

“ _Oh yeah, that’s my fault. I was trying to shoot an apple out of the tree.”_

_Dimitri blinked to this, his mind racing for answers, but the only thing that came up was how extremely close the other boy stood by him. He gave a strained nod to suggest that he understood this and tried lifting himself up again only to cripple back against the tree trunk—the pain evidently surging across his face from his shoulder._

“ _I cannot move…,” Dimitri muttered out hoarsely._

“ _Right, 'cause you’re pinned to the tree, my friend. Here, let me help you,” the other boy said rather excitedly as he discarded the training bow down to the ground. He leaned in close with a whisper. “I’m going to secure my arms around you and pull. Mind, this is going to hurt so grit your teeth.”_

_Dimitri nodded weakly and considerably tensed up when the boy finally wrapped his hands around his arms. Then he moved very slowly, deliberately, carefully. Dimitri’s face somewhat flushed when he felt the boy’s strong fingers press along his uniform and into his abdomen. He smelled like spices and sandalwood._

“ _Alright, I’m going to pull on the count of three. Bear with me here, okay?”_

_The boy counted very softly with his fingers taut against the arms, and on three, Dimitri was pulled off the tree. Pain soared like an eagle’s violent take off, and he let short, nearly strangled noise from the base of his throat. Dimitri collapsed against his savior, panting wildly with blood, sweat, and tears intermingling between the bodies. This was not good—he was losing his mind from the pain alone as the blood soaked his sleeve._

“ _There, there,” the boy said, patting Dimitri gently, hands rubbing down the strong back that moved upon every breath. “I’ll walk you to Manuela. She’ll patch you up.”_

“ _O-Okay,” He merely said and allowed the boy to shift him under his shoulder._

_The two began to move very slowly from the forest and back to the fields. Dimitri’s head was spinning as they went, and he lulled against the boy’s shoulder, breathing very close to his ear. The boy laughed lightly and shook his head._

“ _Hey, listen, I’m really sorry about shooting you,” he said closely._

_Dimitri wanted to hum but could not summon the strength to do so; his head moved lazily against his companion’s shoulder—an attempt to dismiss. “It was an accident. You did not mean to maim me.”_

“ _My name is Claude by the way. Claude von Riegan.”_

_Dimitri blinked. Riegan of Riegan Tech?_

“ _Oh, like the company that makes all the laptops and phones?” He asked weakly with a breathy laugh._

_Claude nodded with a small smile. “Yes, actually. My grandfather is the CEO.”_

“ _That is fascinating,” Dimitri continued on, despite the throbbing pain in his shoulder or how wet his entire arm was. “My laptop is actually one of the new models that got released this year.”_

“ _Seriously? Is it any good—I don’t tend to use any of my grandfather’s products.”_

“ _It gets the job done,” He said simply with a semblance of a smile on his paling face. The blood from his wound was seeping out of his uniform and down to his arm in small streams. Claude gently ushered him along across the lawn._

“ _So, what’s your name, my wounded friend? I would like to know who exactly I shot in a school full of rich children of dynasties.”_

_Dimitri’s heart stopped. Claude didn’t know who he was?_

“ _Are you afraid that I will come after you? It was an accident,” he said suddenly so seriously and strained his neck to peer over at the other boy in mild concern. He didn’t want to scare off Claude with the idea that the late president’s son would try and seek revenge for this._

_Claude chuckled under his breath and shook his head. “No, no, cupid’s arrow struck you from my bow and I really would like to know your name.”_

“ _Oh.” Dimitri’s face tinted red and he turned away, sheepish. “I’m Dimitri.”_

“ _Dimitri what? Come now, don’t leave me hanging. Is your family’s company known to make the same damn phone model every year?”_

_Claude’s ignorance of his identity rang true and clear like a bell across Dimitri’s sub conscious state; he looked closely at his handsome companion, almost struck with the idea that Claude didn’t know who he was—not out of any smugness but rather an oddity that Dimitri met someone who wasn’t already aware of the son of Lambert Blaiddyd._

_Finally, Dimitri swallowed down his fear and hesitantly revealed his full name. “Blaiddyd. Alexandre Blaiddyd.”_

“ _Shit, ain’t that a mouth full. I can never understand why you rich kids gotta have such long-ass names,” Claude said in a jesting manner and Dimitri could only watch him in awe, openly appalled even in his weakened state. “But it’s nice to put a name to that pretty face.”_

_He really did not know who he was._

“ _Please Claude, don’t make me laugh. My shoulder stings even as I speak.”_

_The pair eventually got to Manuela’s office where the soft-skinned beauty nearly fell over in her seat at the large, incredibly obvious arrow that was sticking out of Dimitri’s left shoulder, and the faint trail of blood following them from the front of the building._

“ _What the fuck happened?!” She screamed, her hands shaking at the sight of the wound. Her eyes wandered frantically from Dimitri who was growing weaker from each moment and Claude who watched his music teacher have a mental breakdown right in front of his eyes. When she finally stared at him, looking desperately for answers, he sighed._

“ _Doc, it was—”_

“ _My fault,” Dimitri interrupted. Claude whipped his head around and stared at his golden-haired God with wide eyes. ‘What the fuck are you doing?!’ The boy practically shouted from his silent expression of disbelief._

“ _I didn’t watch where I was going and ended up walking through the archery range on the lawn.”_

_Manuela’s brow furrowed deeply like a mother’s anger born out of worry. “That was incredibly negligent, Dimitri. You should have known better! What if that arrow shot you in the head?”_

“ _I’m so sorry.”_

“ _Claude, let’s put him down over here. Yes, right on that chair—keep him sitting. Take this and just press it softly under the arrow. I’ll need to go fetch some help in dealing with this.”_

“ _I’ll stay with him,” Claude said unconsciously._

_Manuela nodded. “Thank you. I’ll be back soon.”_

_Once the doctor ran out of the office and out of sight, Claude immediately turned to Dimitri who lobbed his head weakly against the boy’s hip, green eyes flaring in a hot mixture of accusation and confusion._

“ _Why did you cover for me?” His companion asked in a half hiss._

“ _Because it was an accident? I didn’t want you to get a demerit,” Dimitri breathed as he held the cloth up against his wound._

“ _You don’t even know me…,” Claude muttered and clenched his fists tightly._

“ _So? I don’t need a reason to hold you in blame. Truly, it’s okay.”_

_Dimitri meant it. For some strange reason, he didn’t even regret the arrow sinking deep into his skin. It felt like fate in a way. To meet someone like Claude in such a memorable fashion that Dimitri had no doubt that neither of them should depart so casually without a second thought. And all Dimitri could really feel was the heat of the other’s body radiating against him. It felt nice._

“ _Claude.”_

“ _Hm?” The boy looked up and glanced over to Dimitri who was regarding him with a kind, yet weary expression. Up close, Dimitri could see how pretty his face was, sharply defined and clever, with a small braid on his right side. It looked cute._

“ _I was wondering why exactly you were trying to shoot an apple out of a tree.”_

“ _Oh.” Claude blinked. “Hilda just dared me to shoot an apple of the tree, blindfolded.”_

_Hilda? Hilda Valentin Goneril? “From the Golden Deer house?”_

“ _Yeah, I actually just joined the house last week. She’s been the main person I’ve been clinging to for help. I didn’t realize that when trouble reared its head, she would take off in a dash.”_

_Dimitri laughed, fairly strained and hoarse. “That house has wonderful people though. I study with Marianne sometimes—I think you’re very lucky to be in a nice family.”_

“ _Ha.” Claude took a chance and reached over hesitantly. He gently ran his fingers through Dimitri’s hair and the boy leaned into the touch unconsciously. “And what about you, handsome? What house are you from?”_

“ _The Blue Lions.”_

“ _I haven’t met any students from the other houses yet. You know, since I’m new.”_

“ _Oh, am I your first?” Dimitri said lightly and lifted his head up. “Well, isn’t this such a memorable meeting.”_

_Claude laughed. “I’m glad I could make it memorable. Of course, your housemates will want to know about your wound—”_

“ _I was going to ask of you: don’t tell them.”_

“ _Excuse me?”_

_Dimitri’s face was drained of all color and he shook his head frantically. He thought of how Dedue will react, breathless and near death. How Sylvain and Ingrid hover over him like frightful parents. How Mercedes will make a mad dash for the first aid kit as Ashe and Annette screamed in the background. How Felix will beat him up even worse than how he is now._

“ _They’re...overprotective. It would be best if this incident was kept between you, me, and Manuela.”_

_Claude frowned. “That’s a good idea,” he said, nodding. “But aren’t they gonna notice the very obvious wound in your shoulder?”_

“ _I always wear my uniform—they won’t see unless I take everything off.”_

“ _What about your classes? I doubt Jeralt let you climb over anything.”_

“ _Manuela will excuse me. Seriously, Claude, don’t worry about it. If they found out, I won’t let anyone know that it was you,” Dimitri concluded with a small smile; his tone closing all discussion on the matter._

_Claude laughed nervously and the sound sent strange ripples down in the pit of Dimitri’s stomach._

“ _Worry? Me? The only thing I have to worry about is Seteth giving me another lecture on love and community. That or that scary ruler he carries around.”_

“ _He does not actually use it—I think he just waves it around to be scary.” Dimitri stopped. “Though he did use it that one time when Sylvain was making kissing noises at Felix. The man can hit really hard.”_

“ _Oh, I believe you. I think under all those monastery robes is a very muscular dude. Hell, even Hilda called him a dilf,” Claude explained._

_Dimitri cocked his head with a quizzical look. “A dilf? What’s a dilf?”_

_Neither of the boys said anymore; they stared at each other, both caught up in the silence that encased the room. It was here that Dimitri fully saw how dark Claude’s eyes were—an earthy, impenetrable forest so deep and lush that no light could escape from. Somehow, the look he gave Dimitri scared him terribly, like a mighty, beautiful God peering down at his beloved prophet—a face full of unknown, unreadable power._

_How did he end up here?_

“ _It’s...a daddy you want to fuck,” Claude finally said bluntly. “Dilf. Get it?”_

_Dimitri’s face reddened and he turned away. “Ah, okay. I think Sylvain mentioned it during one of his long talks of acronyms. I was not paying attention.”_

“ _I don’t blame you. I think it’s better if you say the whole thing out loud than a bunch of stupid letters strung together. It gets the message out more clearer,” Claude said with a wink._

“ _I-okay, yes, I see what you m-mean.”_

“ _Are you okay? You sound like you’re choking.”_

“ _No, you’re just...you’re very different, Claude.”_

_Claude physically stopped and Dimitri could see the gears turning in the boy’s head. He was staring so closely at him, Dimitri wondered if he could see through him, see through his weakened state and right at the blossoming infatuation that was building up dangerously within._

“ _And by that, you mean?” Claude asked very slowly in a far away voice._

“ _You’re very forward.” He raised his head. “But I don’t mean that in a bad way.”_

“ _Ha. Well, get used to it. I don’t like to watch my language very well.”_

“ _Oh, does this mean I’ll be seeing you around?”_

“ _I—”_

_Just at that moment, Manuela burst through the room with two other medical aids. She gave the boys a quick nod as they scrambled around the room, throwing supplies down a prep tray._

_And right behind her was a person that nearly made Dimitri stiffen white._

_Those familiar eyes of purple emerged from the darkness and threw sharp daggers at the pair—accusation, hate, spite, all ebbing violently from the small figure of Garreg Mach's very own princess. His big sister by a half year. She strolled right up to the pair, her sharp heels denting the floor below as though it had insulted her mother, and she crossed her arms._

_Dimitri spoke first. He always had to speak first to defend himself against her. She was the lawyer and he was the poor schmuck at the stand._

“ _El_ _, I can explain—”_

_A sharp voice of power greeted him harshly. “You’ll explain shit. How the fuck did this happen?”_

_Claude lurched forward. “Look, it’s my fault—”_

“ _No, it’s mine. I was the one who walked through the archery practice field,” Dimitri said desperately, gesturing to the arrow implanted in his shoulder._

_But it did not seem to discourage_ _Edelgard_ _from slowly glaring over at Claude. He backed away from her presence, clearly overwhelmed by the young woman’s dominating will. Her eyes flared up and she sneered as though she were peering down at a mouse in a field._

“ _You. Who are you?” She asked—demanded lowly._

“ _Claude von Riegan of the Golden Deer House. Uh, pleased to make your acquaintance?”_

_Edelgard_ _’s frown deepened._

“ _Can you explain to me why exactly does my brother have an arrow sticking out of his shoulder?”_

“ _El_ _, seriously, it was an accident—”_

“ _I didn’t ask you—I asked him.”_

_Claude physically paled upon_ _Edelgard_ _’s words and he edged back in his seat, breathing slowly through his nose. A thought ran through his mind and Dimitri wondered what he was thinking of that paralyzed him so deeply._

_Manuela’s voice broke the heightening tension like a butter knife._

“ _Claude, honey. I appreciate you keeping Dimitri company, but Edelgard is here now. You are allowed to leave while we treat his wounds,” She said, gesturing to the open door._

“ _Oh, yes of course,” he said with a nod, almost enthusiastically as he clearly no longer wanted to be in_ _Edelgard_ _’s vicinity._

_Dimitri blinked at the sudden loss of heat beside him and without thinking, he lurched over despite the pain and grabbed Claude’s retreating wrist. Claude turned to see him staring back at him kindly with soft eyes, and they watched each other._

“ _Will I see you again soon?” Dimitri asked earnestly with a small smile._

_Claude’s face brightened, radiating like a summer’s dream, and he grinned, revealing a perfectly fine set of white teeth. “For you, baby, definitely.”_

_Edelgard_ _’s foot went down. The ground chipped before her. “Get. Out.”_

_She turned to him, sneered in her usual older sister fashion, and said:_

**You. You have some explaining to do.**

____________________

Dimitri woke up to her voice.

It was usually the first thing he heard in the morning as he never took his medicine at night. But when Dimitri lulled his head to the side, he found himself in a mysterious bedroom that was not his hotel room, surrounded by luxuries he recognized so often in multi million penthouses, and stared out at the darkening town of Derdriu from hundreds of feet above in the heavens, in the ocean of stars.

The bed he was laying on was extremely soft, like a cloud—nothing like the stiff and somewhat stained mattress of his two-star hotel room. He lifted his head and peered around the bedroom—marble white with strips of golden, mixed with a strange warm foreign theme he could not properly place. Dimitri’s fingers pressed into the soft sheets, feeling the plush against his skin, and he slowly rose with a light groan. The lights of the small chandelier above sparkled lightly and Dimitri faintly wondered if he woke up in heaven.

His head was spinning.

“Hey, you’re up,” called a voice from somewhere nearby and Dimitri turned his head to catch Claude.

The man was sitting on a chair in the corner of the bedroom, reading a book opened against his thighs. He smiled causally as though Dimitri had just arisen from a short nap, and snapped the novel shut with the graceful rise of his figure. Claude sauntered over towards the master bed and carefully sat on the other side, the new weight bringing Dimitri’s sitting form a bit closer.

“What happened?” Dimitri asked sluggishly and rubbed his only eye clean.

“Oh, my lion, you had a bit of a spell.”

“A spell?”

Claude chuckled lightly and leaned over to cup the man’s cold, sweaty cheek in a concerned affection. “You fainted, Dima.”

“By the goddess,” Dimitri groaned out, shame flushing red upon his half-sleepy face.

“Hey, don’t feel bad! I mean, people did ask questions when they saw their local business carry a handsome man princess-style across the bridge to Riegan Tower.”

“Fuck—”

“But you’re good! No one took any pictures or anything!” Claude paused, clicking his tongue as his eyes rolled around in a passing thought. “Not that...I can remember.”

“Claude,” Dimitri said suddenly and clasped his own hand over the man’s, bringing it away from his face and down on the bed—fingers locked together in a deep apology. “I am so so sorry. I-I don’t know what happened. It came over me so suddenly that I—”

“Oh, Dima, no. Don’t apologize,” Claude said softly and squeezed Dimitri’s hand. “Look, you gave quite a fright when you just collapsed in the cabin but I’m happy you’re up and talking now.”

“Yeah…”

Dimitri was so overwhelmed by the situational shame and inconvenience, and by the sheer, savage affection Claude had placed upon him that he felt close to collapsing once again. It was then that he realized that there was something wrong with Claude’s voice—the man’s usual smooth and carelessly free nature had suddenly taken a deeply attentive turn.

He loomed over Dimitri, green eyes slightly widened as his body stayed taut and ready, as if he were ready to jump at the first sight of Dimitri’s condition worsening. This keen sense of urgency alone intoxicated Dimitri with ambrosia, and he swayed a bit as Claude fully climbed onto the bed.

“What’s wrong?” He asked breathlessly, hovering over Dimitri. “Should I bring you to the hospital? I can call Hilda and Judith to cancel your appointments with them, I---”

Dimitri touched Claude’s cheek and felt the man shiver from the sudden action. He smiled loosely, eyes half lidded with slightly wet vision—probably from a troubled sleep.

“I remember.”

“Pardon?”

“I, uh…” Dimitri blinked rapidly, trying to recover his memory. It was there, so cemented into his mind that he felt like crying out of joy. His heart was racing faster than a stallion, pumping quickly with unconstrained happiness. “I think I remember how we met.”

Claude sat back on his legs and his mouth dropped slightly—a lack of composure ill suited for the sharply handsome man, but he allowed his mask to slip momentarily for Dimitri’s eyes anyway. The blonde man nodded, smiling even wider as he scooted closer on the bed.

“Yeah, you, uh...You shot me.”

“I did,” Claude confirmed breathlessly.

He reached over, slowly and deliberately, and slipped his warm hand beneath Dimitri’s loose suit and over the hidden arrow scar. The rough skin against softness of Dimitri’s skin made him shudder and he leaned in close, resting his head against Claude’s shoulder; he breathed in and out with his mouth, and listened to the soft rumbles of the man’s silent laugh.

“I always wondered what this scar was. For the past five years, I would stare at it in the mirror and wonder how I got it. But none of my friends could recall—neither one of them remembered me ever getting such a nasty cut like this. I think Felix even yelled at me for getting injured in the first place, though we were both confused on how.” Dimitri brought his hand up and clasped it over Claude’s, settled gently on his arrow scar; they stared at one another, breathing slowly in a loving unison.

“This scar was one of the few things I have left of my past. I used to touch it—feel the rough, jagged skin and wondered what kind of trouble I got myself into to get such a deep, deep scar. Little did I know that a handsome, mischievous cupid pierced right through my shoulder. Oh Claude, I think you’re my missing piece to my memory. Five years without any progress and it turns out that I’ve been waiting for you all along.”

“I love you, Dimitri,” Claude confessed once again. His voice sounded more distant, more hollow, but the dark, gripping intensity was still there. When Dimitri met his eyes, the man was glazed and unfocused, as if he were peering through Dimitri rather than at him. Claude’s other hand brushed experimentally along Dimitri’s thigh, up between his legs—the blonde man shivered. “Memory or no memory, I still very much love you.”

“Really? It...it was just the one memory, though. I can’t promise that they will all return.”

“It’s fine. We will go through it _together_. Even if it takes years.”

“Claude, are you…”

“Be my lover,” Claude asked softly and pressed his lips to Dimitri’s forehead, smiling sadly. “Be _my_ lover.”

There it was. Somehow Dimitri, in all of his stupid nativity and lack of direction, had expected this. But not from Claude, the king of the east, but the usual routine from the underworld king. A plea for flesh and blood intertwined in a passing night or two before they started back at day one—business as usual.

It was a plea Dimitri had gotten so used to that it acted as a switch, where all childish thoughts of prolonged romance were thrown out the window in place of a primal, raw lust. Yuri, even after all these years, preferred the want of the flesh and Dimitri learned to adapt to his endless hunger.

But Claude’s voice was not wanting of the flesh despite his hand pressing so lovingly against Dimitri’s skin. He asked—begged for something deeper. Something more. Something endless and bottomless, without an end. And suddenly, Dimitri’s boyhood fantasies of romance broke through the floodgates of his mind and his face went red.

“I-I, u-uh, I…,” he stuttered nervously, blinking rapidly as though he were dreaming. Claude silenced him in a light, chaste kiss on the lips, and pulled away with a patient smile.

“It’s okay, my lion. You don’t have to give me an answer right away. God knows your mind is occupied with all this upcoming business talks and trades between north and east. I won’t trouble you too much. Just know that whenever you feel like returning to me, I’m always here for you. Always. And I will wait for you for as long as it takes.”

“Like...like an actual relationship?”

Claude laughed; the sound so melodic and deep that Dimitri felt a pleasant sleep washing over him. “What else would it be? I love you and I can see the way you look at me that those feelings are the same, no? Or perhaps you’re overwhelmed by it all? Either way, I would like to have you all to myself again. You and me. Cuddled up in the same sheets and sharing the same dining table.”

“I...I guess I never understood it, really. Why I felt so...weak around you during our first meeting. I actually thought I was sick or something. But now I understand.” Dimitri looked away; he thought of Yuri and a sickly sadness ached deep in his heart. “But I think I need some time to think.”

“But, of course. As long as you need to,” Claude said with a smile and peppered kisses all along Dimitri’s face and collarbone, murmuring sweet praises. He finally pulled away, giving off a sleepy look Dimitri sworn he recognized from a past that still deeply eluded him.

“My hotel is a bit far. Do you mind if I—”

“Not at all.”

Dimitri swallowed. “We don’t...we don’t have to sex, right?” He asked nervously. Not that he minded the idea and he even entertained the idea considering how Claude’s presence sent dark shudders throughout his body.

“Not unless you want to. Otherwise, why don’t you lie down—don’t want to overexert yourself for the plane ride to Fódlan's Throat tomorrow.”

“Huh. I’m driving there…”

“No, you’re not, my naive little lion.” Claude laughed and shook his head. “I’ll fly you there in my jet.”

“You can pilot a plane?!” Dimitri exclaimed with a small gasp.

“We have a lot of catching up to do. But let’s leave that for the flight tomorrow. Come—you need your rest, Dima.”

Claude plopped down on the bed, stretching out his arms in an over-dramatically, theatrical fashion. He grinned lazily at the sitting man above and patted the empty pillow beside him. Dimitri quietly obeyed and they laid down closely beside each other, hands still clasped over tightly. Claude hummed lightly and reached over, gently tucking a loose strand of golden hair behind Dimitri’s reddened ear. He was taking Dimitri apart piece by piece, and the latter was so willing to this death.

“For the last five years, I thought I was a lost cause. I thought I would never get back my past and was fated to just...roam this earth without any idea of who I once was.” Dimitri started in a whisper. He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly in controlled intervals of three. “But now...I feel like there was a chance for me to regain that lost part of me, you know.”

“Dimitri.”

“Hm?”

Claude’s hand tightened considerably in a dark thought, oppressive and pained, and there a voice met him through the darkness, languished in its tone. It pierced through Dimitri’s sleepy subconscious like an arrow heading straight to the heart.

“What if...you get your memories back. And you don’t like what you remember?”

“I suppose that’s natural, right? Of course, there’s gonna be bad memories. I mean...my biological family is dead. But I’ll live. I mean, I survived for a reason. I have to make my survival mean something, Claude.”

“What if you remember...things that happened between you and I? I must admit to you, my lion, our love life is not exactly picture perfect.”

Dimitri hummed as he felt Claude’s fingers reached over and cupped his cheek. The act alone brimmed so clearly with deeply restrained and suppressed love that a warmth passed over between them in a silent shudder. Even now, there was no such doubt that clouded his mind. Not one bit.

“We will cross that road once we get to it. Then we’ll talk, yeah? We’ll sit down and really talk about things. Our meeting was not simply a casual meeting between two friends. I feel like it was fate for me to reunite with you, Claude.”

“I feel the same way, Dimitri.”

“I wouldn’t mind staying this way forever. Just sleeping beside you with no one else in the world,” Dimitri murmured in his usual, drunken fashion before the sweetness of sleep took him over completely.

Claude gently brought the man’s heavy body closer to him until they were wrapped in a half-embrace, all warm and safe. And being so close together, Dimitri allowed himself to be taken apart by the man from a single look alone: he was all skin, flesh, blood, and bones. He was white strings of muscles and nerves tied together with scars and discolored patches lining all along his body. He was a beating heart that would one day stop and be devoured by the flames of a machine or the worms of the earth. He was a skeleton whose rib cage was being forced open by an unknown force he will never comprehend. All he could do is give himself up to the universe as it nestled inside of him and ate him up inside out.

Claude placed a light kiss right at the beating pulse of Dimitri’s neck. “That’s been a dream of mine for years, Dima,” His voice was toneless and quiet, even as he pulled away and stared at Dimitri's slipping expression towards a deep slumber. “And I won’t let it escape from me again.”

“Never.”

____________________

**The Abyss_encrypted entry: Approved for [USER_Riegan]**

**Host: User_Lilac Bird**

**IP_Unknown**

**Lilac Bird** – Yeah, about your earlier request. I decided not to disclose any information on Blaiddyd.

**Riegan** – Any reason why? It’s not like you to turn down a paying client.

**Lilac Bird** – It’s complicated. For now, Blaiddyd is blacklisted in my book.

**Riegan** – I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore. I actually logged on to let you know that I’m not interested in getting information on him anymore.

**Lilac Bird** – Oh? Is there any business I can help you with, then?

**Riegan** – Yes, you can. Remember that Dagda poison you mentioned? I need some doses of those.

**Lilac Bird** – Back to your usual old tricks? I should have expected much. Yes, I can smuggle some in from the capital.

**Riegan** – And I need something else from you and this might be a more difficult request.

**Lilac Bird** – Go ahead.

**Riegan** – In Albinea, there’s this northern plant called Black Mandrake often used by neurologists to study memory patterns in the brain. I believe they eventually turned this into a powerful drug often used in the secrecy by the federal investigators to completely break and wipe the minds of internationals in torture. Could you be able to get me a sample of that? A dose?

**Lilac Bird** – I heard of Black Mandrake but as I believe, they recently made it illegal under the United Nations Convention due to unethical use. Obtaining a dose would take me all my resources and contracts in Albinea just to get it on a ship to the Rhodos Coast.

**Riegan** – I’ll pay whatever price you want.

**Lilac Bird** – This will break all convention I hold but why exactly do you need this super memory drug?

**Riegan** – Just a safety net, just in case. I probably won’t even use it if things go according to my plan.

**Lilac Bird** – As you wish. I’ll get to you with updates once I contact my agents in Albinea. But before I leave things off, I have to ask: what did you end up doing with Blaiddyd in the end?

**Riegan** – If you were thinking that I had any intention of sabotaging him, then you misunderstood things. I would never hurt him.

**Lilac Bird** – So business with him is all done and well?

**Riegan** – Not at all. But worry not: I don’t need you for what he and I are going through. Anyway, my friend, I must depart. I have a plane to fly tomorrow.

**Lilac Riegan** – Good night.

**Riegan** – Night.

**Lilac_Bird has exited the chat. This session will now close for security purposes.**

____________________

**Sylvain and Felix**

**I flew in a jet today! Claude has a pilot license and can operate small and personal planes. I think that’s really neat .-)**

_[Automatic Message] We're on vacation right now and may not attend your calls and text. We will contact you after 12 months_   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will update either bi-weekly or monthly depending my schedule! 
> 
> I have a [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/Meatbike344)


	3. A Rooftop Luncheon between Chess Players

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri prepares for the arrival of the Southern King; he realizes a terrible truth with his relationship with Yuri; lunch on the rooftop transforms into a game of chess and knives 
> 
> WARNING - One scene of abuse and threat of murder/rape

**The Fódlan Courier**

“ _ **From the Hand of the Messenger to the Lord of the Castle”**_

Fódlan € 5,00 – Duscur € 6,50 – Brigid € 7,00 – Dagda € 9,00

Edition 2XXX. Verdant Rain Moon

**THE ECONOMIC BOOM OF NATIONWIDE CORPORATIONS AND THE THREAT OF THE ABYSS**

Brokers saw a new time rise when all nationwide corporation stocks plummeted from their average at an impressive ten percent this summer. This includes the Round Table of eastern Fódlan, the Imperial Commerce of southern Fódlan, and the Winter Brotherhood of northern Fódlan with little losses across the board. Experts keeping track of the economic boom believe that the chain may have started with the Blaiddyd-Gloucester Collaboration, which opened the door for exchange between the two regions. However, it can be argued that other factors came into this ‘natural boom’.

Northern Fódlan, in particular, has a renowned reputation of regional partnerships between neighboring corporations such as the recent meager between Gautier Auto and Fraldarius, where the northern Fódlan’s leading auto manufacturer will be joining together with the region’s oldest arms producer in a permanent yet independent collation. This naturally came to be after the marriage between the CEOs, Sylvain Jose Gautier and Felix Hugo Fraldarius, at the start of the summer.

Likewise, a similar situation can be found in eastern Fódlan with the Goneril and Edmund meager, with the marriage of Hilda Valentin Goneril and Marianne von Edmund. Experts seem to pinpoint a return to politically prosperous pairings in many national markets though there are other factors that must be taken into account.

Last month on the 24th, Claude von Riegan revealed to his lavish birthday party on the open collaborations with several eastern Fódlan corporations within the Round Table including Daphnel and Goneril, with the projects set to be announced at the annual Leicester TECH Conference at Fódlan's Throat. Meanwhile, southern Fódlan has seen major expansions outside the region, the most prominent example being the von Aegir Teahouse whose operations are starting to settle in both Gloucester County and Fhirdiad.

However, despite the tremendous leaps in the nation’s economy, there have been some growing concerns of the fabled “Abyss” and their operations against several major corporations. The Abyss is a rumored underground organization that has been cited for the downfall of several world figures, companies, and even parts of Fódlan's government for the past five years following systematic leaks of private and illegally obtained information. While officials have denied any existence of the Abyss and stated that the leaks were from independent whistle blowers, though there has been some skepticism.

“A few years back, we broke some prostitution rings around the Fhirdiad downtown area. And then we opened investigations. But a week later, the news outlets released this incriminating photo of the director buying time from the girls and well…you know that rest. That case was miraculously swept under the rug,” stated former federal agent Randolph Bergliez. “See, we tried to reopen it since some of the higher ups believed that there was some connection to the Abyss, but the board refused. In my opinion, there was a lot of fear of any...repercussions from pursuing it further.”

To complicate matters, it was reported that anyone who agreed to speak about the Abyss—usually arrested traffickers, were found dead in their holding cells or homes the next day. While these deaths are not confirmation themselves of the Abyss, it did little to stop the anxiety fostering throughout Fódlan. And with the economic boom this summer, many companies are on edge for the arrival of a storm.

Theoretical or otherwise.

__________________

It was a lilac bird.

Dimitri had seen it in the window of Sylvester’s several times whenever he passed by Kingdom Avenue on his way to work but hardly had a chance to buy it. By the time Verdant Rain Moon came, the man raced—half-dressed—from Fhirdiad Tower only to find that the crystal bird in the process of being sold to some typical downtown corporate head.

The man whipped his head around and gazed wide-eyed at northern Fódlan's richest and most powerful CEO panting wildly at the open doorway, dressed in black joggers, a wife-beater, and running shoes. Dimitri, eyes as crazed as a boar, stumbled into the store with his arm raised out desperately—a single shaking figure pointed at the bird. After a minute of negotiations, the bird was bought and Dimitri came out with a small, delicately wrapped box tied together with a purple bow. The night was descending and already, two people had seen the Blaiddyd Foundation president during his more casual hours.

Not that Dimitri ever minded, really.

He had forgotten all about his plans this month when Ingrid had returned from her venture in Enbarr. The woman arrived just short of Dimitri making restaurant reservations in Upper Fhirdiad. Nearly two months have passed since Ingrid had departed to conduct a private investigation in the southern capital, primarily regarding the ‘misuse’ of Foundation loans to the Mittlefrank Opera House.

So far, report after report slowly suggested a miscommunication on the opera’s end with proof of proper use of money: renovations, recruitment, education. Of course, there was also the great implication of the head opera singer seducing Ingrid—her soft infatuation coming off rather strongly whenever Dimitri sat down and read through everything.

Ingrid finally returned and she did not return empty-handed. In her usual, diligent way, she had presented not just an affirmation that the opera house was not in the business of fraud but that another company had expressed interest in securing funding for an expansion within Fhirdiad itself. Ingrid then took out a tea tin from her purse and laid it down in front of her dazed childhood friend, half-smiling as if to encourage him.

 _Von Aegir Teahouse_.

After that, Dimitri had forgotten all about his wondrous celebratory plans for this month. He spent the next days running back and forth, working around the clock with Ingrid and Dedue to set everything up for the arrival of Ferdinand von Aegir, the famed CEO and master brewer of the company. His arrival was set for the middle of the month—perhaps the most inconvenient time for the Foundation due to Ingrid’s return and the final submission of her investigation and most importantly—

Yuri’s birthday.

Which Dimitri did not realize until days before where, while changing for his evening job around the city, suddenly perked up and sprinted out of his closet like a mad man possessed. He could not mess up—not this close to Yuri’s birthday. Not that the underworld king ever notices; he despised his birthday, actually, and refused to ever acknowledge it. He threw himself into work, ignored all Dimitri’s attempts to get him away from the Ashen Wolf with Hapi even trying to get her boss up and running, and even deployed Balthus to evict the CEO out of the bar.

This time, Dimitri would not fail. But he was already faltering and he had no one else to blame but himself. And the man that occupied his thoughts beside his lilac bird.

Claude was the unexpected storm that swept through his life and left absolutely nothing behind but clear fields miles and miles out. He took over Dimitri’s dreams like a fever, clinging on so desperately that it shook his core and forced him awake in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. He gasped, clung to his sheets, and peered around aimlessly as though Claude was sitting in the corner.

But Dimitri was alone and his dreams wavered between the man who smiled now and the image he was trying to construct of the ‘before’. The ‘before’ was something his brain involuntarily was attempting to conjure ever since that first memory, and unfortunately nothing came up. The link to that mystery was Claude.

Despite Dimitri’s clear hungry feelings surrounding the sunny man from Derdriu, he was still conflicted by two great factors: the atypical yet five-year ‘relationship’ he shared with Yuri and the overly-intense and nearly instantaneous feelings he has with Claude—no doubt stemming from his past self responding so strongly. It was a battle between the past and the present and one where Dimitri was bound to lose regardless.

The man, while preparing for von Aegir’s arrival, had long settled on a terrible and tragic truth that rendered him mute on several occasions, but it was one where it could help settle the whole nasty affair once and for all. It was when the CEO actually decided to pour himself a cup of tea—chamomile, provided by Ferdinand himself as a small sample of ‘something greater’. It was warmer and richer than anything he had tasted, so much so that he had a temporary moment of extreme clarity while sitting at his desk on the 100th level of Fhirdiad Tower; the lilac bird still in its box.

He could not abandon Yuri.

Even if he was determined to love Claude—still a source of deep and confusing conflict for him, his love for Yuri would never lessen. Even if the man never wanted to share a bond beyond flesh and messy morning sheets, Dimitri could not bear to see life without him. A dark, fractured life of all vices and evil known to man, wrapped up cleanly and tied together in a purple bow—soft hair, batting eyes, and a smile meant to intoxicate sweetly. There was disgust—on both ends from Dimitri’s silent and enduring horror of the fact and Yuri’s long acknowledged lifestyle for he never descended to madness but was born into it. But he was honest about it and never hid his wickedness and true nature from Dimitri. And then there was love.

It would forever remain unspoken. The five years they knew each other, it remained unspoken. But somehow, Dimitri was sure that Yuri would love him either way, be it a bachelor or already so intricately tied to another. This was the truth, at least, his truth.

And as Dimitri lifted the box to his one eye, gazing at the small crystal bird resting on the velvet cushioning, safe and secure, he wondered very keenly if Yuri would even care if he pursued traditional romance. Would he even throw a remark if Dimitri actually tried to rediscover his past with Claude, who seemed so opposite to Yuri in so many ways. So open with his words and intent. So open with his affections.

But why would Yuri care? His desire was always skin-deep and his philosophy demanded for a loose thrill rather than a permanent partnership. And plentiful of others who could take Dimitri’s place just as well.

Dimitri, in their little ‘romance’, was replaceable. The underworld king could have anyone—has had everyone, all to his desires. And somehow, this idea both grieved and relieved Dimitri as he stared outside the window.

It began to rain; neon lights of his city below flickering behind the veil.

**Reading human nature has never been your forte.**

__________________

“So listen: Ferdinand is not coming alone. You’ll have to be entertaining for two.”

“Two? Who’s the other person? One of his executives or vice president?”

Ingrid blinked before flipping through her notes to the very end. Her emerald eyes quickly scanned and stared closely at something she had written at the bottom. Dimitri stayed idly on the other side, still poking at his salad from yesterday.

The pair were going over the preliminary information in preparation for the company visit and tour this week. Even with Ingrid’s most gracious return, the work hardly lessened with everyone tied up on all ends, from security to the personal tour of the tower and even the planned drive around the city—the safer parts, that is.

It was Dedue who wisely pointed out that Ferdinand has very ‘delicate tastes’ which was, more or else, a code word for expensive so Dimitri had already informed the chefs in their planning of the courses. Of course, no one was expecting two people.

Finally, Ingrid peered up from her notebook and gave Dimitri a neutral expression—neither well or displeased as was her usual way to communicate her small irritation.

“Looks like Mr. Aegir is married so he’s bringing his husband. So you would do well in keep the couple happy and content if we should reach a contract of establishing the Teahouse here in Fhirdiad.”

Dimitri arched a brow. “Alright but I need to know what his partner likes. Any allergies? Preferences of food? Topics to avoid talking about? What am I working on here, Ingrid?”

“I don’t know! Ferdinand just emailed me a few minutes ago and it sounds like a last minute addition we would have to deal with. All he told me was that his husband really likes coffee over tea so perhaps make some changes.”

“Coffee, huh?” Dimitri hummed lightly and peered off to the side.

The von Aegir Family was Fódlan's biggest producer and distributor of tea so much so that they have rivaled other drink companies including coffee and soda. It was already rumored that Ferdinand was a ‘purist’ through and through. Dimitri would have to add ‘coffee emporium’ to the list of things to visit during the city tour. Northern Fódlan had already been a big supplier of dairy for the south and coffee was a common drink, though Dimitri was sure it was not as rich as the ones produced in Enbarr.

He could only hope Ferdinand’s husband was an easy man to please.

Dimitri sighed into his hands and stretched back against his chair. Ingrid watched him, still ever so methodical and observant since the first day he woke up in the hospital. She’s always been watching him, even if he never noticed. Perhaps that was why, in many ways, she reminded him of Felix. The two often took distance but never too far away. Never too unreachable. And for Ingrid, her own personal ambitions and dreams was something that lengthened this distance but did not sever it. For the past five years, the woman had split herself between the Foundation and her own company, and Dimitri had long realized that somewhere along the way, there was going to be a split. For now, Ingrid stuck around and he appreciated her nonetheless.

The woman raised her head and leaned forward, suddenly curious. “How have you been doing, Dimitri?”

“Well, I suppose. It has been rather lonely ever since you, Felix, and Sylvain left.”

“But you’ve been...taking care of yourself, Dimitri? Eating properly? Taking your medication? Keeping up with therapy?”

“Yes...” Dimitri’s voice trailed off in a half truth and Ingrid’s brows arched sharply, her green eyes narrowing to thin, accusing slits. Silence settled like a deep, suffocating fog and the man sighed in defeat. “Well, I’ve been skipping therapy---”

“No. No, no, _no_ ,” the woman immediately chanted harshly with the disappointed-furious shake of her head. She stood up so her metal chair screeched against the dining room floor, throwing off sharp waves of fury. “You will go to therapy with Seteth, do you understand me?”

“Ingrid, it feels pointless sometimes!” Dimitri whined out; the child in him was flaring out and he stood up to loom over her. Somehow, Ingrid appeared taller than before. “It’s been what, five years? It’s not like I inherited all of past me’s problems. Hell, I can’t even remember what my own family looks like without having to go through an album, not that I feel anything...”

**But you remember me.**

“Or why I was even at that school in the first place...”

**But you remember my voice.**

“What’s even the point?”

The woman below-above him wrinkled her nose like a predator smelling the air before a hunt; Ingrid was not usually an angry person. Felix was an angry person—insolent most of the time. Ingrid wasn’t angry. She was exasperated and tired. She always had her hand slapped against her forehead and was always sighing and grieving. This time, Ingrid showed no such habit; it was all hot white fury boiling over like water threatening to burst out in malevolent bubbles, and Dimitri was the chef peering too close to the cooking pot.

“Do you want me to call Felix and Sylvain and let them know that you have been skipping out on your appointments?” Ingrid asked very slowly, even taking out a phone and waving it around in Dimitri’s astonished face.

“Go ahead. They muted us for an entire year,” he said lightly, trying to restrain his half-amusement.

Ingrid’s dark frown twitched at the corners. “Dedue.”

Panic settled in like the drop of a stone and Dimitri suddenly lurched forward, his one eye wide and glassy. “Wait, no—I, I’m sorry. I’ll go to therapy—don’t tell Dedue, _please_.”

“Promise me you will go to therapy and I will not tell Dedue.”

“ _Okay_!”

Ingrid sighed, returning naturally to her usual demeanor, and sat back down. Her fingers were tapping methodically on the table and she kept her eyes leveled very close to Dimitri, who was still trying to calm down from a near panic attack.

If there was one person he could not let know about his bad habits, it would be Dedue – his other half whose presence has given him much warmth and comfort throughout their five years together. Despite this, the man was hardly lenient with Dimitri and always kept on track with nearly everything from breakfast to taking his proper dose of medication.

It was just recently that Dimitri had been lying about his therapy appointments, which still stung deeply every time he could see how Dedue gave him a small smile and a nod.

“I know you feel frustrated about not making any progress in the last five years but at this point, it’s not even about that. We just want you to take care of yourself,” Ingrid added for emphasis; she reached out and touched his hand, just light enough to convey her concern.

Dimitri swallowed deeply and nodded. “I know.”

“Are the headaches still there?”

“Every day.”

“Does she still talk to you?”

**Hello Dimitri.**

“Here and there, until I take my medicine.” The man blinked rapidly as though he were waking from a long and empty dream. He rubbed small circles at the sides of his head and moved to search through his suit. “Which reminds me. I have to take my dosage again.”

**Trying to shut me out again, Dimitri?**

Ingrid watched with a small, relieved smile as Dimitri downed two pills with some water. In the beginning when the good doctor prescribed for him to take active medication, it was nearly disastrous with the poor boy overdosing several times.

There was a period of deep and near-violent fear to go anywhere near medicine, forcing Dedue to hide it in Dimitri’s food and Felix outright confronting him with the pill bottle. In the end, it was Ingrid who got the boy to comply and all it took was a pure and utter look of disappointment. Like a mother’s.

Even now, his instincts screamed at him to cough it back up. But a headache was coming on and Edelgard kept talking and talking. And he was scared of what she might say.

“Will you need help when you’re driving around the city with Ferdinand and his husband? I can accompany you,” Ingrid asked.

“No, that’s fine. You’ve been of immense help already, Ingrid,” Dimitri said with a weak smile. He wiped his mouth dry and leaned forward. “Besides, I know you would like to check up on the farms back at home so I won’t keep you.”

Ingrid’s cheeks glowed. “Oh yes, we should get a good harvest this year. Perhaps with some luck, we could open the lunch program soon for the regional schools.”

“Let me know if _you_ need any help. You hardly ask.”

“That’s because I moderate myself, unlike a certain _someone_. Look at you, Dimitri—making powerful friends all over from south and east. I surely hope you won’t get eaten from all of this nationwide attention.”

Dimitri scoffed lightly. “Please, it’s just business as usual. I think the surge is the natural result of the season after all. The summer is usually when most companies hit their strides.”

“If you say so,” Ingrid said though it did not sound too convincing. She sipped her coffee but kept her gaze centered on the man, still trying to figure things out as though he were still hiding things. In truth, Dimitri was, but he hardly found it relevant to mention his unorthodox love life.

Ingrid put down the mug and stared out the window, a half smile slipping across her placid face. The rain had been going on for days now, hitting the thin frost of the window in soft patters with the neon glow of the city lights deforming and twisting between the trails of water down the glass.

The weather in Fhirdiad has always been terrible, from the violent snowstorms in the winter to the constant downpours in the summer. Somehow, this time, the rain felt comforting—a veil that shielded the pair from the outside, just momentarily.

Finally, Dimitri cleared his throat, still so awkward and detached from himself. “Well then, shall we go back to the office and check up on the last steps for the von Aegir visit.”

“Of course, _El Presidente_ ,” Ingrid echoed Sylvain’s usual euphemism with a mocking grin and stood up, tall and radiant. “Lead the way and I will follow.”

__________________

Everything was set this week for von Aegir including new changes to the schedule—mostly last minute additions due Ferdinand’s spouse. Dimitri was not so nervous, even as most of the foundation went back and forth trying to properly prepare for the highly publicized visit. In his mind, this was nothing like the Round Table Talk, where he was thrown into a den of beasts, slathered in blood and guts like a marked sacrificial lamb.

He had long known that Ferdinand von Aegir was a courteous and noble man; the master brewer was named southern Fódlan’s ‘most beloved local businessman’ for three years running with recognition in charity work and locally grown tea leaves. Dimitri remembered seeing Ferdinand’s picture in the Fódlan Courier—the man in all of his glory, smiling in a group picture with theater students after fully funding their university education for the next four years.

Unlike Lorenz, Dimitri had nothing but good feelings about Ferdinand. He seemed amiable, selfless, and the exact type of person Dimitri would not mind supporting in any future ventures. And if all went well, the von Aegir Teahouse would become a permanent establishment in the north.

The company was trying to expand beyond Enbarr with Ferdinand having reported to be spotted in Gloucester County the week before Fhirdiad—entertained by none other by Lorenz himself. Dimitri had a lot riding on the success of this visit and even found it odd that he was not the least bit scared.

Or perhaps another thing occupied his mind.

Dimitri didn’t know what his plan was, exactly. Originally, he simply wanted to give Yuri his birthday gift and leave it at that. The underworld king had already made it very clear of his personal hatred towards his birthday and Dimitri was quietly understanding this personal defilement. The last time he tried to do anything ‘big’ and ‘public’, which was simple dinner at a nice and secluded spot in downtown, Yuri responded in a cold-faced cruelty by glaring whitely at the man before shutting the door in his face and going radio silent for a week.

After that, Dimitri never tried to force the man out of the Ashen Wolf ever again and simply left small tokens of his love on that fateful day. At least Yuri was more amiable with this, even if his demeanor was still so cold and unreachable—as though Dimitri was nothing more but a professional client. It always stung in the end. Each unresponsive shoulder and distant, cruel stare sent another tear through his psyche, just like the first time they met.

A wounded, feral creature glaring at him with mistrustful eyes from the corner of Dimitri’s bedroom. Tonight, the man just figured that he would leave his gift with Hapi and be on his way without bothering Yuri. No use in sticking around just to receive Yuri’s cold scorn and another door slammed in his face.

The Ashen Wolf was empty tonight, which was a common sight whenever the mysterious bar owner was in one of his famous ‘moods’—dangerous and irrational like a rabid dog wandering the streets. Everyone cleared out except the main staff and they were sitting at the bar, in the dim, flickering darkness.

The smell of cigars and alcohol was so rich in the room that Dimitri felt the hot air hit him back like a thick curtain. It smoldered his senses and the man momentarily went dizzy from all the invading sensations. When the smoke finally cleared, he laid his gaze upon the ashen wolves of the Abyss save for their leader—half drunk and passed out. Constance was snoring loudly in a small puddle of her own drool, Hapi was staring at the back wall and giggled loosely, and Balthus was rubbing small, methodical circles at the sides of his head—he seemed like the most sober, surprisingly.

When Dimitri stepped towards the counter, Balthus’ dulled-over eyes went white with shock and the bouncer violently stumbled out of his stool, large arms still planted firmly on the counter for support. The air suddenly turned hot and sweltering, and Dimitri could practically taste the absolute panic radiating off of the giant man.

He stopped.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Balthus warned solemnly, trying his damnedest to steady his voice from outright breaking out.

“I know, I know—I just wanted to drop something off for Yuri and be on my way,” Dimitri reassured and showed him the gift box.

“No, you don’t understand. The boss man is _not_. _well_. We can’t let him know you’re here or else.”

“Oh, I mean, he _never_ wants to see me on this day so that sounds like him,” the man muttered sheepishly with his heart growing heavier by the second.

It was here that he noticed how tense Balthus’ body was—muscles tightened as if he were ready to spring the minute Dimitri takes another step forward into the inner vicinity of the bar. His eyes, despite glazing over with a thin mist, was still centered and conscious enough to watch the visitor carefully—edged and full of an unusual fear Dimitri had never seen before. Constance and Hapi were too out of it to even notice him, but the girls both seemed somewhat displaced and out-of-whims beyond mere intoxication.

A heat seeped into the room and suddenly, Dimitri could feel the urgency.

“What happened today?” he asked softly.

“I don’t fucking know. He usually just locks himself in his room and refuses visitors but today...today was wild, man.” Balthus shook his head despairingly. “The boss man just started making ruckus in the back—knocked down a few of our men, and then he tried to go see you.”

Dimitri paled. “See me?”

“I stopped him and he got real nasty,” the bouncer explained and gestured to the long scratch marks all down the side of his arms. Balthus usually brandished his battle scars with a keen sense of smugness whenever Dimitri came around; this time, the giant man seemed more frazzled and distraught than proud, and he quickly let his arms drop to the side as he stepped forward with a frown.

“Mr. Blaiddyd, it’s not safe for you, right now. You have to leave,” Balthus repeated once again, his voice taking on its usual tightness. There was no room for discussion or compromise whatsoever.

Dimitri nodded, subdued. However, he brought up the gift to the man and gestured for him to take it with a small frown.

“Could you...at least give it to Yuri? That’s the only reason why I came around so I could leave it.”

“Do you have a message for him?” Balthus asked as he accepted the box carefully, eyeing it with some apprehension.

“No, I think that will upset him even more. Don’t even say that it’s from me—just a worried client is all.”

Dimitri moved to leave the bar, but before he could reach the door, he peered over his shoulder at Balthus who was watching him closely—confused in many ways than naught, and they stared at each other in quiet expectancy; two natures unable and will never be able to comprehend the other. But in many ways, there was understanding. Finally, Dimitri said:

“You’ve always been the one to take care of him. All of you. I’m a poor substitution for a caretaker.”

“The boss man doesn’t want a babysitter, your majesty. He wants you. He loves you. Like a lot,” Balthus said honestly with a shrug.

“His love is awfully unconventional. I know I’m not the only one he...messes with,” Dimitri said without any malice, even sporting a small smile. “Not that I have a problem with it—it’s always been his way.”

“Yes, but he is in _love_ with you. I need you to understand this.”

“I do.”

“So why do you sound so unconvincing then?”

Dimitri frowned. How did he sound then, simply just having a chat here and now? Or could this looming, muscular bouncer could see more in his own words than he? The man shook his head and sighed in a deep resignation. Balthus would not tell any of this to Yuri—Dimitri had to remember that, and gradually, the swelling in his heart pulsed.

“I...may be rethinking my relationship with him. I mean, not that we had one to begin with other than old friends. I think some distancing would do me some good.”

Balthus peered up and down Dimitri’s stark figure, half-shadowed in the darkness of the bar, and a deep, bottomless frown split across his broad face—a thin wound reopening from the skin and raw flesh.

“You met someone,” he said simply.

“Yes.”

“You’re going to break Yuri’s heart. He will never forgive you for this,” he added with his voice a mere hiss at the mention of the underworld king’s name.

Dimitri shook his head. “I never pledged myself to him. He knows this. What we had was just a loose affair.”

“Not to him it isn’t.” Balthus stepped forward, eyes peering down at the man. He was neither angry nor calm, but there was a clear desperation to his movements even with all the alcohol. He smelled like sweat and vodka, but stood steady enough where Dimitri understood keenly that he was quite sober. “Dimitri, I need you to listen to me: the boss man is not well. He has not been well for a long, long time. He would rather be dead than here. But I do know one thing and its the one thing he has talked about these last few years we worked together: He loves you. He adores you. And he worships you—and I know it’s mutual. If you have any love for Yuri at all, you will work with him here. I...I know he can be difficult, but if you just give him a bit of a push, I know he will show his devotion to you. I promise you this.”

“I love him too,” Dimitri said without a beat. It was easy for him to say such words because he meant it every time. He loved Yuri and has been in love with him since he first dragged the bleeding boy out of the alleyway. And yet, apprehension had long settled deep in his heart and all he could think of was Yuri’s many, many rejections. And his cruelty.

“It hurts. All I want is for us to have...a normal relationship. It doesn’t have to be an open one but I’m so scared and tired of all of these ‘games’ we play. Tired of just sex and the empty morning after. I don’t know if I can keep up anymore.”

“Yuri would rather kill you than let you go,” Balthus said gravely.

“Stop joking, that’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking. He’s even said it himself.”

Dimitri could not help but give a small chuckle at this and shook his head dismissively. “Right, because I’m his ‘toy’ right? Look Balthus, I appreciate your concern but I’m not abandoning Yuri. I just need some space to reevaluate our relationship right now,” he said and turned back to the front door.

Balthus let out a sharp, shuddering breath. “You would do well and remember my words. He’s very devoted to you—I want you to see this, truly.”

“Maybe I will one day.”

With a final gracious nod, Dimitri left Ashen Wolf and did not look back, even as the rainy wind blew against him from the front. As if it were trying to push him back to that eternally dim bar, flickering in and out of existence like a dying overhead light.

And then it died with a hiss.

__________________

_Dimitri was not sure what he had said or done to incite such a violent reaction out of Yuri before._

_The pair had grown closer since Dimitri pulled Yuri—bloody, half-dead, and unconscious from the dark alleyway of downtown Fhirdiad. He had been tended to, fed, and looked over by the young Blaiddyd while the other members of the household watched warily from afar. Rufus was the more accepting of the boy’s presence whereas Dedue and Felix—whenever he visited, seldom came anywhere close to Yuri and merely spoke in hushed tones with Dimitri. Mostly warnings of caution and care._

_Dimitri, on the other hand, proved to be an attentive caretaker from changing Yuri’s bandages to mixing proteins in his soup. So far, things have been going swimmingly and the lilac boy’s once hostile nature has gradually turned something akin to a brotherly softness, at least for the blonde boy._

_He proved to be a strangely mischievous lad with a bit of a mean streak; it was too often that Dimitri’s face reddened and he fell into a natural, blubbering state whenever Yuri said something that was intentionally teetering between the lines of comfort and discomfort, usually with a funny grin._

_The two stayed close to one another, usually testing out the boundaries of this odd arrangement between them. As Dimitri soon discovered, Yuri was not quite as normal as he expected—there were some quirks about him that seemed to suggest something of a more darker and wiser nature._

_For one, Yuri was apparently left for dead in that alleyway due to complications with a drug trade. Dimitri thought it was a joke; everyone else didn’t. Then came the gradual reveals of Yuri’s past—mostly work, work, work in ‘under-the-table’ jobs, which Dimitri assumed was a colorful way of stating that he was underpaid for small jobs around the city._

_Then there was the strange, expansive knowledge on things Dimitri assumed no person should have—like the best way to discreetly kill a man and the importance of cutting out the teeth and burning the fingertips. Or how Dagda nightshade was outlawed in Fódlan in the last five years once someone turned it into a liquid poison and dispensed it at a gala in Enbarr. It was just bizarre qualities like that which made Dimitri slightly curious of the stranger he picked up, but he hardly questioned it—Yuri was unflinchingly kind in his own, twisted way and Dimitri was possessed by a terribly, bottomless feeling whenever he was around him._

_He could not recognize it and yet, at the same time, he’s felt this way before._

_What was it?_

_However, despite all of the good fortune between them, Dimitri had soon discovered a problem with Yuri, something he was hardly expecting. It began at dinner in the boy’s bedroom where Yuri made a passing, unguarded remark of turning twenty next week and the lament of his age. Dimitri quietly took that information in and by net week, he surprised the lilac boy with a birthday cake Rufus ordered from the Fhirdiad Bakery._

_Dimitri was met with Yuri’s beautiful face twisting to a white-hot mask of rage, twitching and almost urging to strike him right here and now. Instead, what came instead was the fierce slam of a wooden door and three whole days of silence. Yuri responded to none of his pleas and apologies. The boy sat outside of the bedroom, knocking once in a while, and quietly begged for Yuri to let him in. He did not leave his side—even when his uncle came and tried to bring him into his bedroom._

_By the fourth night, Dimitri woke up and found that he was no longer slumped against the door but in his own bed. He sat up slowly and met with Yuri’s purple eyes, watching him from across the room. No longer mistrustful or angry—just observant. Perhaps even a bit remorseful. And they watched each other in a lonely silence._

“ _I’m sorry,” Yuri finally offered in a small, far away voice. It was toneless and mechanical as though all feelings had been stolen away from him. Upon closer inspection, Dimitri was able to notice the dark rings under his slightly reddened eyes._

“ _Are you okay?”_

“ _No, I’m not.”_

“ _I’m really sorry if I crossed a line with you,” Dimitri said; he wanted to reach over and touch Yuri, but his body was so weak from all the waiting the last three days. Everything ached._

“ _You didn’t. It’s me,” Yuri replied weakly. He sighed very lowly through his nose and closed his eyes. It was clear that he was suffering through a headache, one that rippled through his head like a violent wave, and the boy groaned out loud._

_Dimitri saved his words and waited in muted concern._

“ _I, uh, I don’t like my birthday. Scratch that—I hate my birthday. I hate it. I don’t want to celebrate it. It reminds me too much of my mother.”_

“ _Your mother?”_

“ _Just a common street whore back when your old man was the president.” Yuri paused as if to collect himself; he was not crying—he never cried, but his eyes were cast down into the dark shadows of the room, as if he were trying to escape somewhere far off and distant. Yuri swallowed. “She passed away on my birthday.”_

“ _I---”_

“ _Don’t. Do not apologize. I’m getting real sick of your apologies, Dimitri. I don’t need your damn sympathy,” He snapped harshly, the usual bite returning to his eyes._

_Dimitri laid back and went dead still, trying to swallow down his ‘I’m so sorry’ down his throat. His house guest was dancing between hot fury and cold apathy and Dimitri did not want to push him any further, even if he just wanted to go over and hug him._

_Yuri sighed out and rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I should not have said that—it’s just so hard right now.”_

“ _Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?”_

“ _No, I just. No, I need to take this time to grieve alone, you know.”_

“ _Yes, of course,” Dimitri said with a small, sympathetic nod. “But is there anything I can do for you now?”_

_Yuri stared at him, purples eyes gleaming dark like gems in a cave. Finally he slowly stood up._

“ _Just one.”_

_Dimitri watched in a held breath as the beautiful man stalked across the room and slowly took a seat down on the edge of the bed, right next to the starry-eyed boy. It was all nothing but a stillness, something ever so disquieting and eerie, and yet beyond that, fear. Dimitri was not scared—he was never scared of Yuri even with all the earlier hostilities and threats. But the sheer silence and the lilac boy’s white expression—so far away and unreadable like stone._

_Suddenly, Yuri reached over and clasped his hand against Dimitri’s cold cheek, leaving it there as if to allow the warmth of his skin to soak through. He could feel the boy’s soft pulse beating from his wrist, growing faster and faster until Dimitri was sure that Yuri’s blood was close to bursting._

“ _Stay with me. Don’t leave me alone,” Yuri begged softly, his voice suddenly desperate and longing. It took on a foreign quality Dimitri had never heard before and it made his heart sing._

_He was about to reply with a steadfast ‘yes’ but the words never left his lips._

_A kiss seals everything and spills nothing._

____________________

Sometime in the night, Dimitri got up from his bed in Fhirdiad Tower.

He stared out into the lonely darkness and slowly turned to the city down below, still alive and thriving with its blue-purple neon glow and distant sound of cars honking at holographic traffic lights. It was 22:00—much too late for any decent man to be caught on the rainy streets.

Dimitri knew this and he counted himself as no decent man; he slipped on a coat and shoes and headed out of his penthouse. His glass elevator descended slowly down from the 100th floor and he watched in a sleepy awe as he entered the lower realm of the winter city, dazzling lights all around him and the bottomless feeling of emptiness gradually washing through his body like a sudden fever. His security guards were asleep at their post—a human trait, which always made Felix upset and Dimitri endeared; he simply left a small note on their desk and took his truck out.

The streets were not as full as they usually were, but filled enough where Dimitri did not feel so lonely. It was not until he drove into the side roads of downtown where the street lights died away and the noise of civilization was replaced with the distant sound of dogs barking and glass breaking that the emptiness returned. The neon lights too died with a hiss and there was nothing but flickering lights from broken down apartment buildings and the occasional glow from a figure’s lighter to his cigarette.

As always, Dimitri parked his truck behind the small dead end behind the Ashen Wolf and slipped inside quietly from the back using the back-up key Yuri left for him years ago. The lilac man said that Dimitri could use it anytime and even teased that his bedroom was always unlocked for him, not that the Foundation President ever got around to using it for that purpose.

Dimitri closed the door behind him and quietly stepped down the dark hallway leading to Yuri’s office and bedroom. Usually the bar was still open at this time as most in Fhirdiad, but Yuri’s infamous moods always made Balthus close it down early if not, for the entire day. The staff usually slept a little further off from where Yuri’s room was but Dimitri still kept quiet regardless as he crept inside the empty office and looked around.

It smelled thick. A mixture of heavy, excessive vodka and cigars. Not recreational. It was all too overpowering, overbearing. Dimitri’s eye traced over the broken glass all around the floor, the pushed over cabinets and kicked in chairs. The ripped up papers and piles of ash from the shattered ash trays. And the very small splotches of dried blood on the wood and carpet, leading towards the bedroom.

Dimitri slowly opened the door to just a crack and peered inside.

A paling figure, bundled up roughly under twisted white sheets splayed into a tight ball, and it shivered ever so slightly with the soft entry of light. And blood, just small stains on the ruined mattress. His bedroom was nothing but cold floors, unfulfilled spaces, and endless shadows—it was always empty, despite the man having nearly everything in the world.

Almost everything.

Finally, he wasted no time, no hesitation, and listened to his weakened heart. The man took off his jacket and boots and slipped over in bed. Yuri was shaking somewhat violently beneath his thin sheets as though he were dragged out of a cold bath, and when Dimitri looked over his naked shoulder, he noticed something glistening in the man’s white grip.

A little crystal bird. Lilac like his eyes.

Dimitri gently threw the sheets—as thin as paper, away from Yuri’s cold, naked body and brought the shaking man against his chest in a tight embrace. The movements and sudden warmth stirred him slightly from his troubled sleep and a pair of dark, purple eyes—red with grogginess and crying, peered up at him and widened in surprise. They stared at one another as if trying to capture a normality that never existed, and then Yuri leaned in and pressed his wet forehead against Dimitri’s.

“You came back,” he said in a voice that sounded young and new.

“Yes. I’m sorry. I should not have left you alone,” Dimitri murmured.

“But you came back. That’s all that matters.”

“You’re so cold, Yuri. Come here.”

The man pulled the shivering creature closer and brought the sheet over their bodies; Yuri murmured something incoherent and snuggled beneath Dimitri’s chin, his nose stuck against the soft skin of his neck. From here, Dimitri could see how the wrapped bandages around Yuri’s arms and gently brought them forward—not to look but to encourage for him to wrap himself around him fully. Somewhere in the bar, someone began to snore loudly.

“I got the gift you left me. Such a pretty, pretty little bird,” Yuri hummed and gave a loose, far away giggle. “Did you know my mother gave me something like this for my birthday? But it was a stuffed plush with pretty black eyes and a round body. I was her little songbird.”

“Yuri…”

“It’s funny. I think after she died, I got a bit obsessed with birds. Do you remember how I turned your room into a temporary sanctuary for a few months? My, Uncle Rufus threw quite a fit.”

“A pigeon pooped on his steak.”

“It’s not my fault that birds relieve themselves when they fly. It’s only natural. But I still fancy myself a bird collector, even after all these years. I might even get back into the hobby.”

Dimitri closed his eyes. “A hobby might do you some good.”

“You think?” Something warm brushed up against his flushed cheeks and Dimitri opened his eyes to see that Yuri was peering up at him closely. Feverishly. Adoringly. A worshiper upon a god. He smiled, but it was neither his usual teasing grin or a dangerous slit—a smile of a child’s dream slowly dying away.

“I always liked watching them flutter about in their pretty ivory cages. Hearing their songs. Seeing the shine of their colors. I used to watch them for hours. But the songbird—it was the most beautiful in my collection. Do you remember, Dimitri? It was the one in the blue cage on your desk. Every morning, we woke up to it’s song. Oh, it was so, so pretty.”

“It passed away, didn’t it?” Dimitri asked in a hushed voice. He was struggling to remember what had happened to Yuri’s favorite bird other than it was he who found it slumped at the bottom of its cage one cold afternoon.

Yuri hummed. He was losing himself, even in Dimitri’s protective arms, and he stared at the crystal bird with an absent look. “Yes...I started collecting more. B-But they kept dying, Dimitri. Nothing I did was able to stop it. They just kept dropping dead. How many went? How many times did I have to take the cage out?”

“The numbers elude me.”

“I think I stopped collecting after that. Even still, I could hear their wonderful, intoxicating song in my dreams. It enraptures me, entices me, and absolutely enrages me. Nothing but pretty songbirds in cages. My mother’s face—who I can’t even remember anymore. And you. You. Oh by the goddess,” Yuri gave a hollow laugh and shook his head. “I-I think I’m going mad.”

Dimitri placed butterfly kisses all over Yuri’s cold face. It was like kissing marble after a rainstorm, and the man bemoaned weakly to a dry sob. Yuri was also so mad during his birthday, the one time where his dangerous and controlling persona broke through to showcase a small lost child. He clung desperately to Dimitri’s larger body and buried his face into the side of the man’s neck, his eyelashes fluttering wetly against soft skin.

“If you leave me, I will kill you.”

“I know,” Dimitri said, trying to sound casually dismissive. But it did not sound casual. dismissive and Yuri hardly sounded like he was joking. In fact, the man’s declaration was so firm and steadfast, Dimitri wondered if he was still delusional.

“I will never leave you.”

“Never,” Yuri whispered brokenly into his neck.

Soon silence fell between the men once more and the mercy of sleep slipped into the room and took her children away, still clinging to each other—as if afraid of that violent winged take-off into a dark sky.

____________________

**A collector is no better than the king. They both want to possess.**

**Question is, which color cage suits your fancy?**

**Dimitri?**

____________________

By sunrise, Dimitri had to leave in order to make his appointment with Ferdinand von Aegir. Usually, the day after his birthday, Yuri has returned to his ‘normalcy’ and pretended as though nothing had ever happened. ‘Back to the daily grind’ he always stated with that dangerously perfect smile and unpredictable nature, and Dimitri was just allowed to leave with his hair intact.

However, Yuri was in no mood to follow his own convention today. When Dimitri tried to get up from the bed, the man’s grip on his body tightened with an irritable need, and the latter was dragged back down under the sheets. Dimitri could feel Yuri’s nails dig half-moon crescents into his skin as if pleading for him to stay; he slipped a hand around the back of the man’s slender neck and gently forced up his sleepy gaze up to his own. There did not seem to be a full conscious operating here, but desire was sickly sweet and deeper than the Almyran sea in the summer. Yuri blinked rapidly, waking from his own dream, and cocked his head.

“I have to go to work today.”

“Do you? You always work. You could stay here with me,” Yuri bemoaned and rubbed his face into Dimitri’s chest.

The larger man tapped his shoulder. “The von Aegir visit is today though. I can’t skip out on this.”

“That tea bastard. He’s nothing special. All vanilla and no spice.”

Dimitri could not help but smile at this; Ferdinand was a clean public figure, without a hint of scandal or corruption. Clean businessmen had no part in Yuri’s world nor do they have a price tag. If he had a ‘clearance’ bin, Ferdinand and every other good local small-town politician would be in it for nearly the entire price hacked off.

“I still have to go or else we might lose this account.”

“Then take me with you.”

Dimitri sat up and looked at Yuri with his brow arched. The man was staring at him, lilac eyes wide in anticipation and hope. He was not joking with him.

“You...want to come with me?” Dimitri asked quietly.

“Yeah. You could just tell von Aegir that I’m your date. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind since the tour is suppose to be rather intimate and impersonal anyway, right?”

“I mean, of course he wouldn’t mind. But...you wouldn’t mind being shown off in such a public way?”

“Will there be cameras?”

“We requested for no media but there’s bound to be some, probably when we travel around the city.”

Yuri’s eyes fluttered to a close and he sighed, discontent. “Either you stay here with me or you take me with you,” he said in a voice that destroyed all discussion or room for compromise.

Dimitri sighed and touched his forehead. A headache was coming on; he needed to take his dosage today else he would never be able to get through the day. Finally he placed a hand at the curve of Yuri’s thin back and ushered the man up from the bed, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“Okay, I’ll bring you—just don’t cause any trouble for us today.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Yuri murmured and returned Dimitri’s affection with a hungry kiss.

__________________

Ferdinand von Aegir was everything Dimitri has expected of a good-natured businessman from southern Fódlan: amiable, passionate, oozing with absolute charisma, and overly friendly.

Dimitri recognized the man from the moment he stepped out of the sleek black limousine and somehow, all the magazines and talk shows have done him a great shame: Ferdinand shined like the southern sun with his long, fiery locks—like a maiden’s or one of those majestic, tan-chested lovers on the cover of romantic beach reads; it flowed in the Fhirdiad wind in an over dramatic flare, and he stood at the curb, brandishing a pure white smile. When Dimitri came forward to shake the man’s gloved hand, he smelled like roses and citrus.

**Oh Ferdinand, Ferdinand. He hasn’t changed. Not at all. He smells like Enbarr.**

Edelgard’s voice broke through the soft veil of Dimitri’s placid, drugged state and it surprised him immensely. She knew him; the affection was sounding clear through her usual grating voice, and Dimitri ultimately decided to allow his 24/7 plus one to stay, not that he could resolve this issue with more medicine nonetheless. He shook her presence away and gripped Ferdinand’s hand in a friendly vice.

“It’s so good for you to join me on this day. I hope the drive up was pleasant.”

“Oh, yes, yes,” Ferdinand chirped—he really did sound this happy and upbeat in real life, like vitamin D in a human body, and he bobbled his smiling head in further agreement. “Oh, the north is so beautiful. You guys really care about your nature up here, huh? So many tall, tall trees. So many mountains and flowers. Goddess, vacations up here must be amazing!”

“Ah, yes,” Dimitri said nervously. “There are famous ski resorts further north in the Gautier region bordering Sreng. You should visit sometime—hot chocolate with Gautier milk is practically worth the trip.”

“So I heard! Perhaps the next time I’m free, I’ll bring my husband up there.”

Dimitri stepped back, allowing Ferdinand to join him on the sidewalk as the limousine pulled away. It was just Ferdinand—not even a bodyguard as most businessmen from Enbarr travel with nowadays. Just Ferdinand von Aegir, smiling like the sun that never rose upon Fhirdiad.

“Uh, where is your husband?”

“He’ll join us shortly—at an important meeting with some major players from Derdriu. I’m afraid we’re still in the middle of working out the details with that region,” Ferdinand said with a half-laugh. His radiant eyes gazed up at Dimitri before riveting to the side and landing on Yuri who had stayed in a phantom-like silence since the man’s arrival. He gave a wickedly pretty smile and a wink, and Ferdinand backed up a bit, chuckling pink.

“Oh! And who is this?” He asked, suddenly nervous—Yuri had that effect on people and reviled in it like a cat in the sun.

Yuri smiled dangerously and slinked forward before letting his wrist get caught by Dimitri’s vice. The man eyed the southern CEO, half amused, half bored—which only Dimitri recognized—and held his slender hand forward for Ferdinand to take.

“Just Yuri—Mr. Blaiddyd’s date.”

“Well, it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, Yuri. I’m sure the three— _four_ of us when my husband is freed from his duties—will make a great double date,” Ferdinand said, returning a wink of his own, and took Yuri’s white hand to place a small, noble kiss.

Yuri’s eyes glint over dully and Dimitri felt like groaning.

“We have a busy schedule ahead of us so do let your spouse know that he can join us anytime throughout,” Dimitri said and gestured towards the icy-glass doors of Fhirdiad Tower. He had his secretary send out the details to Ferdinand’s agents after he and Ingrid revised everything nearly twenty times over.

Ferdinand nodded, quite pleased. “Oh, he knows! Well, come now, I hear that Fhirdiad doesn’t get much daylight hours. Let us go forth and make friendship then, shall we?”

Yuri smirked and Dimitri squeezed his hand, as if to silence him. He nodded with a weak smile to Ferdinand and the three of them went along towards the tower. Yuri had clearly become bored with von Aegir and turned away, keeping a possessive vice around Dimitri’s arm and whistling softly like a bird. Somehow, this made Dimitri feel better, that he could go about his business without any threat

It was here that Dimitri noticed that Ferdinand walked with a sort of bounce to his step. Never before had he met such a strange, lightheaded figure before and he wondered if all people from southern Fódlan was this happy and radiant. As they went and Ferdinand began to chatter quite positively about the beauty of the Fhirdiad countryside, Dimitri prayed that Yuri’s boredom would last throughout the day.

Hopefully. Until then, Dimitri ran his personal schedule through his mind and shielded himself mentally for a long, long day ahead of him as Yuri’s hand curled into his.

__________________

**9:00 – 9:30 AM**

Breakfast in the Moon Room

w/ Tea & Coffee with Mini Cinnamon Rolls and Waffles

**9:40 – 11:30 AM**

Personal Tour of Fhirdiad Tower

(Levels 1 -5, 10, 50, and Astronomer’s Suite)

**11: 40 – 12:30 PM**

Lunch on the Astronomer’s Suite

w/ personalized menu of Southern & Northern Fódlan foods with a vintage Fhirdiad Wine

**12:40 – 4:00 PM**

Drive Tour around Fhirdiad

(Open stops at any location and drive by coffee shops—avoid lower Downtown Fhirdiad)

**4:10 – 5:00 PM**

Ending Discussions and Farewells

__________________

Yuri was a terribly interesting companion and even more of a guest for Ferdinand to chat with.

In fact, Dimitri was secretly glad that Yuri invited himself for he would have made an awful host to talk with. The entire time from the surprisingly pleasant lunch in the Moon Room to the productive tour around Fhirdiad Tower, Yuri kept Ferdinand busy with interesting topics and remarks the whole way through with Dimitri taking a well-needed back seat from all the entertaining. Of course, he was not surprised that Yuri was so natural at conversations—it was his nature, after all.

And Ferdinand responded feverishly—no short because of Yuri’s beauty and amusing, sardonic nature, which always eclipsed the room no matter where they went. As it turned out, Ferdinand got the idea from his Teahouse company from a terrible, personal fault—his father, the late Ludwig von Aegir, was a corrupt businessman in Enbarr who invested heavily in the inhumane production of foreign tea leaves in Brigid, Dagda, and Albinea.

This deeply upset Ferdinand, so much so that once he succeeded his father, he abandoned the old man and tore up all contracts overseas. He then did a personal cleansing of the company from firing corrupt executives to restructuring the entire database of the business.

After establishing roots in human rights organizations and entering the equal fair trade commerce between Brigid and Enbarr, Ferdinand was able to unveil the von Aegir Teahouse, the rich and humanely producer of tea products with proceeds to charity.

Throughout the entire time, Dimitri could not help but bolster a newfound and deeper admiration for the man. He was noble, fair, and completely honest in his ideals. However, while Dimitri stared in awe at Ferdinand as he went on, Yuri’s mask stayed firm: dull and bored as if collecting dust from the wall. His slender, white fingers continued to rap in methodical patterns on the glass table as he nodded mechanically to Ferdinand’s story—there was nothing inherently ‘interesting’ about von Aegir as everything about him was front and center.

No, he was simply being engaging for Dimitri’s sake and the man knew this well. He knew this from how Yuri’s hand was always fitted nicely into his or how his arms wrapped protectively around his bicep, as if to keep him from drifting close to Ferdinand’s light. He brushed his head against Dimitri’s shoulder and breathed in the man’s scent whenever the Tea CEO turned away to gawk at the Foundation’s impressive displays of art. It was these secret moments of intimacy that kept Dimitri on his toes and awake with life.

By the time they were ready for lunch on the Astronomer’s Suite—the very top of Fhirdiad Tower and named the ‘number one spot in all of Northern Fódlan beside the Gautier-Sreng Border Wall for stargazing and aurora borealis viewing’—Yuri still had energy to keep up with Ferdinand’s interests and Dimitri felt more comfortable acting as an outspoken host.

The three of them sat down at another crystal glass table, which revealed the whole city below their feet like a hovering God. This part of the tower overlooked Fhirdiad and beyond—even showing the distant port towers of Fraldarius and the mountains of Gautier. It was one of Dimitri’s favorite spots in the tower and he always came up to stargaze alone.

However, before he could take seat, Ferdinand reached out and gently touched his arm, suddenly apologetic and demure.

“I’m so sorry Dimitri, but could we grab a couple of chairs? My husband just texted me that their meeting ran late and he’s coming up now.”

“Why does he need a couple when it’s just him?” Yuri asked, yawning into his hand.

“Uh, an investor friend of ours who was at the Derdriu meeting is coming too,” Ferdinand swiveled his head back to Dimitri, sunset eyes drawn over sorrowfully. “I, I am so sorry, I just found out.”

Dimitri held a hand out and gestured to the aides for more chairs. “No, don’t apologize. This is a meeting between friends, right? I want things to be comfortable between all of us, no need for the formalities,” he said with a small, reassuring smile, ignoring Yuri’s side glance.

“If I may, what exactly is this Derdriu meeting you keeping talking about?” The lilac man asked with an arched brow, and even leaned forward, showing off a genuine interest in a venture he could benefit from.

Ferdinand smiled at this inquiry and nodded excitedly. “Oh yes! So you heard of my company’s expansion from Enbarr, yes? I was hoping to establish some grounds in the other capitals including Gloucester County. So last week, we were going over joint discussions and tours with investors in eastern Fódlan before meeting with Dimitri here. Today was the last day with the Derdriu meeting and it simply ran a bit late,” he explained, waving his hands about as the aides brought two chairs—one next to Dimitri and the other next to Ferdinand himself.

“Ah, and would you be opening up shop in Eastern Fódlan?”

“Well, definitely Gloucester County! Lorenz and I are close so that was expected. But the potential in Derdriu is the most important, especially with the ports to Almyra! I was hoping from there I could reach out to some local businesses in that country and open up a new line of spiced teas. Though it’s difficult at the moment as the investor from Derdriu is a rather...interesting person. I had my husband deal with him as I am awful at all that double talk.”

“Clearly,” Yuri said in a half-sneer and sat back, crossing his arms.

“Who is this investor from Derdriu?” Dimitri asked casually.

One of the waiters came by and started decorating the table in dishes of delicious foods and sparkling glasses of cider. Ferdinand took a glass and gave it a happy sip, before regarding his host warmly.

“Oh, well you won’t believe this, but our investor is actually---”

The executive elevator to the Astronomer’s Suite gave a lone ding and all three men turned around just as the silver doors lit up to blue tones and pulled away with a mechanical hum. Ferdinand shot up, suddenly more vibrant and red like the burning sun as Dimitri’s face paled as white as the dying moon.

Standing right in the small, glass box of the elevator was two figures—one expected and one unexpected. There was a shadow of a man – not in the way of a hollow shell but if shadows and darkness were personified into a single person. For Dimitri, this was this person—a tall man, as tall as he, slightly slender by the figure with pale skin and midnight-black hair that loosely hung over his gray-stormy eyes—like rain on the pavement.

A sinister demeanor, a cold unfeeling, and a dread that washed over him as that man stepped forward.

Then there was Claude von Riegan, wearing yellow-shaded sunglasses, open-toed shoes, and a thin loosely buttoned shirt with Brigid Flower imprints. In his hand was a half-drunken martini glass with a tiny umbrella, as though he just stepped off from the Derdriu beach.

And he took Dimitri’s entire breath away.

“Hubert! You came!” Ferdinand declared happily in feverish worship. They embraced rather warmly and the oppression of the air lessened when Hubert offered a small smile back; the sunniness of his happy-go-lucky husband broke through the storm, but only a little.

**Hubert, Hubert, you moved on. I’m so happy.**

_Is he precious to you, Edelgard?_

But Dimitri did not hear his sister’s response.

The only thing in his vision was Claude von Riegan, the sunny storm in his dreary life that kept returning and returning, leaving Dimitri to wonder if this was merely a cruel, wonderful fate.

Claude, in those stupid sunglasses and oddly patterned vacation shirt slinked forward like a panther around the hugging couple until he stood a mere few feet away from Dimitri. He stared at the Foundation president, smiling ruefully as though this was his plan from the very beginning, and gave a playful wink.

Somehow, Dimitri hardly noticed how hard Yuri’s nails were digging into his skin, the sheering pain throbbing throughout his arm. The shock came delayed and the CEO eventually flinched, stepping back to join his guest down on the table.

It was here that he noticed that Yuri wasn’t even staring at him; his eye were gazing in a hot mixture of excitement and something else much more darker at Claude and Hubert, even leaning forward a bit.

Dimitri never liked that look. It was intrigue, and intrigue favored risk takers.

Eventually, all three men sat down at the lunch table with Claude seated close on Dimitri’s side and Hubert next to his husband, with the amiable air returning back to cordial and professional. Even if Claude began to sip loudly at his martini.

“Dimitri, I want to introduce you to my husband,” Ferdinand started and nudged the dowry man playfully on the shoulder. “Hubert von Vestra. We all actually went to school together, remember?”

“No, he doesn’t, darling—you need to catch up on your reading,” Hubert finally spoke; his voice was eerily calm and leveled, as though it were impossible for him to raise his voice. But unlike Claude’s who took laughing quality, and Yuri’s who was a playfully edged as an unsheathed knife, Hubert’s was simply pure sinister.

Dimitri’s flight or fight instincts kicked in right away when the two leaned across the table to formally shake hands. Hubert’s was like a marble statue, cold and unfeeling, and he sat back down without moving a single expression. Just gray eyes like rain and leered right at him. Hubert was confused. And it irritated him greatly—something about Dimitri made him angry. And then he looked to Yuri and it all fell like heaven.

Mistrust. And yet there was intrigue there that never existed.

Ferdinand coughed into his fist. “And this is---”

“Claude von Riegan. Charmed to see you again, your kingliness,” Claude remarked.

He did not move to shake his hand, merely nudging his foot against Dimitri’s leg in a lazy attempt for greeting. At least that’s what it looked like; Dimitri kept his eyes down and nodded, trying to repress showing too much emotion.

Claude was the very essence of discretion.

“Oh! That’s right—you two were really close back in school,” Ferdinand remarked simply without noticing how Hubert was gently tugging at his elbow. “Always together. I keep forgetting about that.”

“School?” Yuri asked quietly and stared at Dimitri.

“Oh yeah, back at Garreg Mach. I don’t think I ever saw a day without these two side by side. My, was Edelgard was pissed about that.” Ferdinand fell into a shocked silence, flinching a bit at the mention of her name; he turned to Dimitri, absolutely apologetic and in near tears. “By the Goddess, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to---”

“It’s okay,” Dimitri said with his hand up. He glanced over at Claude, somewhat edged. “I don’t remember those days, tragically. But I wish I did.”

Claude smiled back, but it was oddly weak and troubled. The connection between them was still there, still so fresh and raw as their reunion, but Dimitri felt a resistance on Claude’s end, as if he were pulling against an inner emotion that desperately needed to be left out.

“We’re still reconnecting,” he clarified to Ferdinand. “But I have to say, despite all these years, the bond is still there—if you know what I mean?”

“Oh no, I know,” Ferdinand said. His cheeks suddenly flushed a bit and he looked away. “I always figured that there was something between the two of you---”

A sugar cube was thrown haphazardly in Ferdinand’s general direction and the man stopped. Claude blinked rapidly and broke gaze to look at Yuri. Then that earlier resistance crumbled away and a dagger-like smile slipped out of its sheath once again.

“Oh? I’m sorry—I didn’t catch your name,” Claude remarked sweetly, lifting but a single brow and sporting a half-grin. Hubert seemed to be in agreement to the inquiry and watched without moving.

Yuri smiled and leaned forward, propping his pretty face against the palm of his hand. In the soft light of the northern sun, his hair appeared much more softer, his features smooth and elegant like a maiden’s, and he blinked those fluttering eyes at Claude and Hubert before stating his name like a prayer.

“Yuri.”

“Yuri?”

“Just Yuri. I have no great name to show for myself. No Riegan or Vestra or Aegir or Blaiddyd. Just Yuri,” he said simply with a shrug. His other hand was laid protectively on Dimitri’s knee, slipping up ever so slightly as were their usual game.

“Yuri,” Hubert pronounced very slowly like a foreign word that did not sit right upon his tongue. “What are you then, Yuri? A local businessman, perhaps?”

“In a way. I peddle goods here and there. But mostly, I’m here for Mr, Blaiddyd.”

“A friend of yours, Dimitri?” Claude asked. He was resting his cheek against his fist, leaning back as though he were at home. However, his eyes betrayed everything and nothing remained but a heightening irritation.

Yuri wrapped his arms around Dimitri’s stiff back and lulled his pretty head against his shoulder, grinning of great fortune and arrogance.

“In a way.”

“Hm.”

He did not notice it right away. But ever so gradually, Dimitri was able to sense that the party had ascended into something greater than heaven, heightened to a dangerous thinning atmosphere where all breath was drained and there was nothing left but players of a most terrible and anti-human game. Ferdinand did not seem to notice at all, considering how he accidentally dropped a spoon and smiled when his husband carefully reached down to grab it for him. Dimitri, on the other hand, could not find his own voice.

**It starts off with a Pawn.**

“Yuri is awfully sweet. He knows just about everything—even stuff that surprises me!” Ferdinand chimed in, cutting the suffocating tension with his usual chipper mood.

“Do you now? Tell me something impressive,” Claude challenged lightly.

Yuri tapped a single finger to his pink lips and then pointed it at Hubert, who stared coldly at him from across the table. The lilac man sneered playfully and then pointed down to the bustling city below them.

“Looks like someone is afraid of heights.”

“Whatever do you mean, _Yuri_ ,” Hubert uttered, trying at the man’s one word name once more and merely coming off as a slur.

“We’re on the highest point in Fhirdiad Tower. Any new person coming here would be in absolute awe of the world below and around them. Hell, even Riegan peered down at some point before plopping down. All except you, who kept your gaze straight ahead as if you were restraining yourself from looking down. And when Mr. Von Aegir here dropped his spoon, you kept your head up and away from the glass floor. Plus, I noticed that your wrists are shaking.” Yuri smiled. “Am I right, Mr. Vestra?”

**There goes the Bishop.**

Claude blew a lone whistle before clicking his tongue, immensely impressed. Hubert merely stared at him as a cool smile slit across his face—the cool frost of his disdain spilling over quite clearly. Ferdinand merely clapped, so delighted by the game of observers being enacted before him.

“Oh wow! See! It’s like Yuri has a third eye! Not that Hubert has a fear of heights anymore---”

“Darling…”

“We even went skydiving last year! I mean, Hubert did pass out on the way down and the instructor had to pull his parachute for him—”

“ _Ferdinand_!”

“But we’re getting there!” Ferdinand finally concluded, laughing as his husband shook his head, muttering incoherently beneath his breath.

Claude laughed and clapped his hands together. “Most impressive. Well, I pegged you for a most observant soul the minute I stepped onto this damned glass platform.”

“Yes, observant indeed. For such a simple, small man,” Hubert said softly. He recovered rather quickly and leaned forward. “But Mr. Blaiddyd, you don’t mind having your _colorful_ companion present during company negotiations?”

“Not at all. I trust Yuri with all of my heart,” Dimitri stated. He felt the man’s soft hand curl into his, squeezing a bit with a show of affection.

“Why? Do you detest my presence already Mr. Vestra?”

“Hardly. You and Riegan here are merely a noise in my ear. I’m only here because my husband likes to be supported during this time,” Hubert replied honestly. “Of course, not that I expect neither one of you to be such proper guests for this venture, especially Riegan here.”

“You’re just mad because I skipped out on coffee and forced you to share in the splendors of Martini Mondays with me,” Claude murmured, dramatically indignant.

“Oh, I know how _your_ drinks are, Riegan. Perhaps if you weren’t so keen in having all your attendants have loose lips, perhaps negotiations would not have taken so long.”

Yuri smiled. “Ah, Mr. Riegan, are you trying to poison Mr. Von Aegir’s husband? Don’t prove the rumors true now.”

“You heard of those? Man, you surely seem to know just about everything,” Claude said with a dangerous grin and tapped the side of his forehead. “I bet you would just _love_ to get inside my head.”

**A Knight is taken.**

“Who wouldn’t?” Yuri shrugged simply. “One might say that I’m quite a nosy creature. It’s a habit, of course. But I learn a lot from my dealings. Like how Mr. Vestra here is scared of heights or how Mr. Aegir likes to have cream with his Seiros tea—but just a teaspoon as to not upset the chocolate of the drink.”

“Even I didn’t notice that! A childhood habit really,” Ferdinand said with an impressed grin.

“See? But then there’s you, walking in the highest point of the northern capital, wearing clothes more befitting of a day at the Derdriu beach. Aren’t you an enigma?”

“I could say the same for yourself, Yuri-so and so.” Claude lifted his martini up to take a sip but kept his dark green eyes centered on Yuri, narrowing a bit. “And what of our beloved friend here? What do you know about Dimitri you wouldn’t mind throwing upon us this fine afternoon.”

“Claude, please, I really don’t think---”

“Oh that’s easy.” Yuri said and turned to take a drink of his champagne. He then dabbed his lips with just the edge of his napkin and stared straight at Claude with a plain, bored expression.

“He’s a bottom.”

“ _Yuri_!”

**King takes the Queen.**

Someone spit out their champagne—Ferdinand—and the Tea Brewer was choking as his husband immediately rushed over to pat his back. Dimitri shot up so fast that his chair fell back against the glass floor of the suite with Hubert snarling at him not to break the platform and send everyone down to their bloody deaths. Yuri sighed nonchalantly and merely shrugged when the Foundation president gave him an absolute murderous look; he even muttered ‘its true’ as Ferdinand’s gagging died away.

Claude, on the other hand, was staring not at Yuri anymore but centered his bottomless, green-eyed stare right at Dimitri. He did not seem amused and the unexpected blankness of his expression took Dimitri off guard. It was like looking into an abyss—so dark and deep that one cannot see how far down the bottom was or even if there was a bottom to begin with. Dimitri was leaning so close against the edge that a gust of wind could send him flying into the darkness, consumed so wholly and without a trace.

Somehow, Dimitri had seen this look on Claude before. But where?

“Oh I agree,” Claude finally said placidly and tore his heavy gaze from Dimitri to regard Yuri coolly. “For a big man, I have no doubt he likes to be taken care of. Held. Loved. But don’t we all?”

“Hm,” Yuri hummed and wrapped his hand around Dimitri’s frozen arm, gently tugging him down on the chair he propped up. He kept staring back at Claude, eyes glazed over with the heat of victory. “Believe me—he does. But would it be too over the line if I were to say he likes it on the rougher side?”

Dimitri’s heart was racing towards death. “Yes!” He hissed through gritted teeth.

“Oh, I can imagine,” Claude said softly, suddenly so far away and inaccessible. He kept staring at Yuri, as if nothing in this world existed but Yuri. And what Dimitri read from his gaze was nothing short but hollow. Empty. And absolutely unfeeling.

Yuri the bird went in for the diving kill. “Of course you could imagine. I don’t ever need to.”

“Okay, no _more_!” Dimitri finally interjected, even eyeing his two guests with a wary look to cease.

“Yes, please. I have no interest in hearing about Blaiddyd’s tendencies in bed,” muttered Hubert as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with a long, long shuddering sigh.

Despite the lunch being located at the very top of Fhirdiad, on an overarching glass platform that overlooked the entire northern province, the air had suddenly turned hot and sticky with a heat so ever consuming, Dimitri felt like fainting. All he saw was colors blurring across his vision and his head was filled with nothing but air and Edelgard’s cruel, distant laughter ringing like a church bell. He could not feel his hands or body—a soul trying to separate from its shell and make a final descent into the world below. The voices meshed together until one stood out from them all.

“Ah! The wine!” Ferdinand chirped excitedly as the head chef finally entered the astronomer’s suite. All five men—three players, immediately broke line of sight of each other and regarded the sudden appearance of the chef who stood at the table with a silver bottle.

Dimitri finally sighed out in relief.

“Well, now, what’s the special lunch wine I keep hearing about?” Ferdinand asked as he leaned in against Hubert. The shadows parted once more with the sun, even giving away to a very faint blush upon his white cheeks.

The bottle in the head chef’s gloved hands—matted white with a very faint blue gradient at the bottom and tied together with a royal blue ribbon around the top that slipped around the neck in an elegant curl. And imprinted right in the middle was a stamped seal—the Blaiddyd Family Crest. Even staring at it seemed to have transmitted a certain cold, like peering out into a winter landscape.

“This is the 1921 White Frost, produced by the Blaiddyd Family in the coldest winter Northern Fódlan has ever experienced in the last two centuries. The blizzard that came in from Sreng was so massive and strong that it locked down the entire city for three weeks. During that time, 30,000 people died to the frost including the elder Gautier, madam Fraldarius, and Lord Blaiddyd himself. Once the cold cleared, Lord Blaiddyd’s daughter came out to the vineyard and found that the black grapes her father had planted in the back of their estate had frosted over, and yet it did not destroy the fruit itself. There, she produced five bottles from the grapes she could preserve thus, creating Fódlan's most expensive wine,” stated the head chef in a cool accent as he cleanly uncorked the bottle without leaving his eyes from the party. A white mist emitted from the very top and out into the air like frost and suddenly, the Astronomer’s Suite suddenly became colder.

“The 1921 Winter Frost must always be preserved in a freezer with a temperature at negative seventeen degrees Celsius. All handlers must wear specialized gloves when moving the wine. And now, you gentlemen including Lord Blaiddyd will have the privilege of drinking one of the fated five.” He began to pour the liquid—white-blue with a milky sheen—into the various frosted glasses around the table. A visible crinkling sound could be heard out in the open and nearly everyone except for Dimitri reacted with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. Finally the head chef stepped forward and gave an elegant, precise bow.

Everyone stared at their glasses for a minute, watching as the sheer cold of the wine climbed up the glass and released a soft smoke into the air. Dimitri was the first to accept the eternally cold drink and he held it up into the air as it bleed ice into his fingers.

“To our friendship and everlasting life,” he recited weakly.

The only person he felt passionate to even click his glass for was Ferdinand, who returned the toast by lifting his own glass up against Dimitri’s with a sunny smile. The others fell suit but their eyes were still on each other—always on each other. Mad beasts looking to claim territory upon new, unmarked lands. And in this case, nothing burned worse than how Yuri and Claude regarded one another, greatly apprehensive by their own denied and unified interests. At least Hubert was tempered in ways so unexpected of him.

“To our friendship and everlasting life!”

They all drank the ancient liquid blizzard, and there was no better feeling to describe it.

 _ **Cold**_.

A burning throat. A violent shiver.

And then the worst brain freeze came upon the three players with the exception of Dimitri who stood watching in muted pleasure as his tormentors crippled against the table and held their heads in a silent, throbbing pain. Too intense to make any noise but too potent to move.

Ferdinand, who was strangely resilient to the after effects, looked up from his drink and grinned at Dimitri with a brotherly sense of reassurement.

“I’m a bottom too, you know.”

**Checkmate.**

__________________

The rest of the day was torturous.

The limousine ride around Fhirdiad was marked with exceedingly passive aggressive remarks flying in from all sides, from Hubert’s low grumble to Claude’s sardonic comments to Yuri’s suggestive observations. The game continued but at this point, it was nothing but underlying spite and intolerance for one another and the need to show it.

Ferdinand did not seem to notice the suffocating air inside the limousine and was completely chipper the entire way; he stopped at every shop that excited him including an old townhouse coffee shop for Hubert to drink the whole way. He kept Dimitri occupied with long stories and questions, listening in eagerly as the rest of the party bickered quickly in their little corner.

Eventually, Ferdinand made another stop but it was at a foreclosed office building on the corner of King’s Way in downtown Fhirdiad. Dimitri knew the seller and after one quick phone call, the security guards quickly unlocked the doors for the party to walk through on a side tour of a location stop. The entire time, Claude and Yuri kept going back and forth the entire time as Ferdinand led the way, overly excited as though he just discovered a gold mine beneath the land. Before Dimitri could follow them, he felt a slight tug on his arm and looked back.

The gray stare of Hubert von Vestra paralyzed the CEO right on the spot and the eerie voice uttered once again.

“Do you mind if I could have a word with you, Mr. Blaiddyd?”

Dimitri peered back at the party as they descended deeper into the office and back at Hubert who watched him in quiet expectancy. Finally he nodded, subdued, and stepped out to follow Hubert to a more secluded spot. There was an unguarded ladder on the left corner and the pair climbed all the way to the isolated rooftop. Hubert pulled out a pack of cigarettes and silently offered one to Dimitri, who accepted the gesture kindly. After a sharp light and a bizarrely intimate moment where Hubert broke through the illusion of his cool reception by personally lighting Dimitri’s cigarette, they stared out at that empty parking lot—covered in weeds and broken chain fencing.

“Please pardon my husband for his ignorance. He is a character defined simply by the present and nothing more. Even still, he should have known beforehand regarding your...accident,” Hubert started as he blew into the cool evening air. The sun was descending very slowly below the eastern horizon and the shadows cast long and pure black across the pavement.

“It’s fine. He’s a good man. Passionate. I really like him,” Dimitri stated. He’s not a smoker—it simply is not his habit, though he never turned down a chance whenever Sylvain was offering.

“That’s good to hear for I was worried he may have slighted you in a way.”

“I don’t think I would be mad if he had insulted me.”

“He hasn’t changed—even back when we went to school together, he was always like this. Always so upbeat and happy. So eager to please and make friends. So quick to apologize. Everything about him is just a constant swing of extremes,” Hubert muttered into his fist; a slight tint climbed up into his pale skin and Dimitri could not help but chuckle.

“I wish I could remember what that was like. I’m sure we were on friendly terms—hopefully.”

“You were, considering that you were Edelgard’s younger brother.” Hubert stopped, the thin streams of smoke slipping between his cold lips as he regarded Dimitri. There was a moment of silence between the men before Hubert added on rather earnestly.

“You...know her, right? They didn’t just leave her out when they were trying to fill in the gaps of your mind?”

“Of course, I do.” **Acknowledge me.** “She’s always in my thoughts.” **You can’t turn me away.** “Even when I don’t want to think about her.” **I am a part of you.**

Dimitri was fighting the urge to take some medicine but remembered that he was smoking. He would have to endure her for now, at least for the day. However, Edelgard’s voice was strangely gentle this time, as if she was encouraging him in many ways. For the first time, embracing the line between sister and brother.

Hubert nodded at Dimitri’s cryptic answer, pleased, and turned back to the setting sun. “I am glad. She was very precious to me and I know that she was precious to you as well, even if you can’t remember it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I am not blaming you for something that is out of your control. As long as you keep her in your thoughts, Edelgard still lives. Though there begs the question on how much do you remember of the before?”

“Practically none, though I did retrieve one important memory after hanging around Claude long enough,” Dimitri explained with a happy smile. “I think he might be his key to unlocking the whole thing.”

“Riegan,” Hubert muttered as though the man’s name was an obscene curse. He took in a long inhale and blew between his white teeth. “That crafty bastard.”

Dimitri eyed him carefully. “You don’t like him?”

“Not at all. I am not one to trust those who smile too much.”

“You, uh, do realize that Ferdinand is—”

“He’s genuine. He’s real, D—Mr. Blaiddyd,” Hubert suddenly hissed, eyes flaring out in a heated passion. “He smiles because that’s how he feels. Same with how he frowns or cries so easily. Everything is real with him. But Riegan—his smile is a weapon. It’s a façade to trick and deceive. It’s been that way since our school years.”

“Really? Was he like that back in school?”

“Well, perspective is everything. Of course, if there was anyone's judgment I trusted more, it was Edelgard. Not that we can ask her now. But she saw such a two-faced nature first and after dealing with that blasted man for the last five years, I would say that her intuition has not failed me.”

“Claude eludes me. I know nothing about him and yet...it feels like nothing has changed.”

“Perhaps you feel that way due to your similar choice in companionship. That Yuri is no better than Riegan. Just a different coat of paint and a better selection of hair products.”

Dimitri felt his skin flush hot, his clothes scratching painfully all over his body, and he stiffened under Hubert’s deep words. An accusation if he ever heard of one and yet, where there should have been anger was instead a painful confusion bordering on recognition.

“W-What do you mean?” He asked hoarsely, keeping his gaze on the horizon.

“Come now, Dimitri,” Hubert said, pronouncing his name so low and close that it sounded like a greeting between old friends. “You’re a smart man. You figured it out eventually right? Two natures so similar in their selfishness and desire to possess that the only conflict comes from the fact that they both want the same thing. In any event those fools were business partners, I’m sure they would have been unstoppable. But tragically, it is the inherent fact that children don’t know how to share.”

“I suppose I can see it that way…”

“You suppose? No offense, Dimitri, but lunch was positively spoiled when those two began to play mind chess with one another. Of course, even I feel a tad bit shameful in engaging in their pettiness with Ferdinand sitting right there,” he muttered sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yuri’s an old friend. I have known him for years—I trust him. And Claude is a friend from my past. It’s very hard for me to uproot these connections. Though I understand I can’t keep going back and forth if this is to continue. It’s bad for business,” Dimitri muttered rather truthfully

“Terrible, really. Listen, Mr. Blaiddyd,” Hubert started, returning back to his cold professionalism. He blew rings in the air and they watched them disappear into the darkening dusk. “There’s a reason why I wanted to talk to you in private and you could either take my word for granted or give my advice some ponder. But between two pretty cages, it’s better to fly away and never look back.”

“What does that mean?”

“Do not trust Claude and Yuri.”

Dimitri fell into such a muted silence that the only thing to escape his lips was the ever present flow of cigarette smoke, seeping down his chin and fading away into the cold and beyond. Hubert, on the other hand, continued to appear so deeply solemn and grim that all thoughts of protest left the Foundation president’s shot mind. A man he just met today—another figure that marked the ever-growing wall between Dimitri’s confusing present and unreachable past, just bluntly told him to throw away all trust for two men so deeply important to him in two different ways.

“Mr. Vestra, I’m rather confused,” he finally uttered softly.

Hubert shook his head. “I’ve been in this business for a long time, Mr. Blaiddyd. Southern Fódlan is nothing like the north—commerce there is an unkind, savage jungle. Ferdinand and I understand this well considering how we both grew up and witnessed the evil in our fathers. As such, one learns to pick up certain cues in the business. I dealt with Riegan’s kind of businessmen for far too long: amoral, endlessly hungry, and dangerously apathetic. And Riegan is a master player at that. Same with your friend. I have no doubt whatever ‘goods’ Yuri peddles is just another cutthroat market place where only the strongest could survive.”

“I have known Yuri for five years...I don’t know if I could just abandon trust in him so easily after everything he has done for me. And Claude...I can’t describe it but my feelings for him are still strong even after all this time,” Dimitri muttered nervously, his cigarette quivering between his fingers.

“A love triangle is for young girls. You’re a grown man—think for yourself, Mr. Blaiddyd. If your sister was here now, she’d tell you to cut the middleman and just choose. Or choose none at all and leave predatory beasts where they belong—outside the home.”

“By the goddess, I do feel silly,” he said with a small, painful laugh. “Perhaps you’re right. But to deny my own feelings would be the death of me. I crave love and have been for years. I think that part of the old me has stayed around.”

Hubert nodded, strangely sympathetic and understanding. “I must admit, companionship is important. If I do not have Ferdinand, I believe this life would be ever so lonely. But it’s unwise to be so indecisive, especially between _them_.” He inhaled another smoke and blew to the side, facing away from Dimitri in a contemplative manner. “Honestly, if you have to trust anyone—stay with your little friend. At least you know him. Though I find him in equal contempt, nonetheless. But Riegan...Riegan has a known history of corporate wickedness and pragmatism. And such natures can only come from a deeper place of truth. Even he frightens me at moments and I never want Ferdinand anywhere near him.”

“It’s funny.” Dimitri closed his eyes. “I don’t think I even know why we separated in the first place.”

“Then maybe you should ask him yourself once you’re alone,” Hubert finally concluded.

Behind them, the doors to the rooftop were thrown open. Ferdinand emerged, still so radiant and cheery as if the sun never set in the beginning. The man grinned boldly at the pair and planted his hands at his slender hips, nodding very approvingly. Claude and Yuri emerged from the doors, still so caught up in their wordplay that neither noticed Dimitri’s intense stare from afar. Somehow, the image of their figures standing side by side slowly merged together and the Foundation president wondered if it was just the long day straining his eyes.

“Dimitri, I do say, this office space is a mess! A mess, indeed! But I’m a fixer-upper and honestly, this location is absolutely perfect for the Teahouse. You think we could talk more about a potential expansion here?”

Dimitri broke his gaze and regarded Ferdinand kindly, nodding with a shy smile. “Of course! Come, let’s return to Fhirdiad Tower. The faster we can get this sorted, the faster you and Hubert may rest for the night.”

“That sounds quite the plan, Mr. Blaiddyd,” Hubert stated in a pleasant hum of approval.

As the party descended down the ladder, Dimitri quickly tugged on the dark-haired man’s sleeve; when he turned around and stared at him, Dimitri braved himself with an appreciative smile.

“Thank you for the advice, Mr. Vestra.”

“I didn’t do it for you.”

“Oh, I know. But I appreciate the time, nonetheless. It’s strange for I had an inkling that you and I were not very friendly back in the day the moment I met you. Isn’t that funny?”

A small smile—not something so cruel and eerie, twitched at the corners of Hubert’s lips. He gave a slow nod and stated in the most kindest voice Dimitri had ever heard from him before. “I’m glad _something_ was able to stick around after all these years. Perhaps it’s not all lost, eh?”

**When I left, he came to you. His loyalty is ever so strong, even to the dead. Trust him wholly and play to live. For me—for us.**

__________________

By the time negotiations ended, night had completely descended upon the slow waking city of Fhirdiad with the neon lights flashing on the dot like clockwork.

Claude was, surprisingly, the first to leave. As it turned out, his presence today was simply a coincidence as he and Hubert truly were tied up nearby towards the end of their own negotiations. The handsome, smirking man had his plane stored in a nearby local airport just outside of the main city, and from what Dimitri understood from their last flight, was Claude’s primary mode of transportation around all of Fódlan. He was beautifully unconventional that way.

The Riegan Tech CEO gave Dimitri a chaste kiss on the left side of his cheek while Yuri watched quietly from afar. Before they could pull away, Claude whispered into Dimitri’s hear, suddenly urgent and solemn:

“I’ll be back in the city next week from now for a tech talk I’m giving. If you’re around and _alone_ , perhaps you could show me around?”

“Of course, of course,” Dimitri murmured back quickly.

“Then it’s a date,” Claude finally concluded with a laughing smile and the two men reluctantly departed.

Hubert and Ferdinand took their leave right after; Dimitri had gifted them the rest of the 1921 White Frost before they headed back to their luxury hotel for the night and the couple seemed immensely pleased with the gift. Ferdinand’s energy had been wavering ever since the last hour of the negotiations, and he finally fell asleep against Hubert’s shoulders when they seated in the back of the limousine.

The dark-haired man, on the other hand, gave Dimitri a respectful half-nod—his gray eyes no longer so stormy and distant but something akin to affection; Dimitri could only smile back as the limousine away from the front curb of Fhirdiad Tower and disappeared off into that semi-darkness of the street, illuminated by the low haze of bar lights and the low thumping of club music.

Once the small image of the limousine’s red rear lights died away in the distance, Dimitri felt the familiar slither of slender arms slip under his and looped around his chest into a possessively, warm vice. Something nibbled at the back of his neck and Yuri laughed like a mad man.

“Shall we go sleep among the stars?” He asked in that sickly, sweet voice laced with danger.

Dimitri could only nod, allowing Yuri to lead him back to the glowing sentinel of Fhirdiad Tower, jutting up so high against that star-filled heaven, marked in the rare appearance of blue-green wavering curtains—aurora borealis at the height of spring dancing among the stars in a metamorphosis.

__________________

The first time Yuri and Dimitri had sex, the latter had discovered two things: one, he was, to his and Yuri’s surprise, not a virgin.

Up until that point where the older boy shoved Dimitri against the bed and made a mad, near-violent attempt at his terribly obstructive clothes, Dimitri swore he never slept with anyone before or even attempted any romance save for a few chaste kisses here and there.

It wasn’t until his body went hot-red and opened up beautifully in a pinkish bloom with the invasion of Yuri’s fingers that both realized that he had done this before. It was there that green jealousy took Yuri like a darkening plague and the dangerous lilac beauty roughly spread Dimitri’s legs apart and slammed into him cruelly.

He fucked him raw and hard, biting his nipples and muttering harsh words into his hear. For Dimitri, this rough play felt like a callback to something he’d experienced in another life but had no way to ground himself against Yuri’s pure, thundering rage.

It had been a very long time since Yuri was truly mad at him, possessed like a delusional, hungry beast. And Dimitri was a boy again.

“I should chain you up, keep you locked up like a little princess in a tower,” Yuri muttered to himself as he leaned over and kissed Dimitri on his lips. His hand slowly ran down the man’s quivering chest, nails raking softly against white skin before he clasped around Dimitri’s already erect cock.

He started to stroke him quickly and moved between his spread legs until Yuri’s cruel gaze was leering down at him. His own cock twitched with excitement and Dimitri braved him and each other to stroke it—Yuri immediately slapped his hand away.

“Don’t touch me. Just lay back and take it like the little pretty toy that you are,” he growled, quickening his strokes. Heat soared upward and swelled at the base of his stomach, and Dimitri’s felt hot tears well up at the corner of his one eye. His hands gripped the soft fabric of his pillow, trying his best to stiffen his moans.

Suddenly he felt something wet and hot leak drip onto his base of his cock and trailed down to his tight, pink entrance. Yuri had squeezed a bottle of lube out onto Dimitri and nonchalantly threw the bottle away, still grimacing like death. His coated fingers pricked against the man’s hole as his stroking hand continued absolutely mercilessly.

Dimitri let out a whimper; he wanted to touch something bad—touch Yuri, touch his cock. His fingers were tearing into the pillowcase as the heat intensified—Yuri’s fingers sunk deep into Dimitri’s insides and he fluttered tightly against the rough digits.

“Y-Yuri,” Dimitri whined, eyes fluttering wet and red.

“You better start making some noise or I’ll make things much more slower,” the lilac man warned in a deep, low voice, sending shivers through Dimitri. He curled his finger up, already so in-tune to the man’s body that he stroked the very edge of his prostate.

“A-Ahhh.”

“Such a predictable whore.”

A second finger slipped in, stretching the hole even wider as Yuri began to curl and plunge roughly. Dimitri could not help himself but let out a panicked gasp and he scrambled against the headboard of the bed for purchase.

“You’re so tight. Even after all the nights we had together,” Yuri growled, eyes leering over in boiling anger. Dimitri’s cock wept in Yuri’s skilled hand and his body was reacting like clockwork. However, the lilac man’s rage was raw and very much real—hardly a game, especially when a third finger stretched him out far and thin.

“Yuri, p-please!!” Dimitri threw his head back, panting wildly like a bitch in heat. His arm was slung over his wet eyes, hand clenched into a tight, white fist. He couldn’t make sense of this new found cruelty Yuri was displaying, almost like he was trying to hurt him.

“I bet you’re imagining someone else fuck you like this, don’t you?” Yuri sneered as he pulled all three of his fingers out, leaving Dimitri’s pink hole to clench on the empty air. The man leaned over and growled in Dimitri’s ear as his hardened cock was angled just against the entrance. “Are you thinking of him?”

“Claude—“

“Don’t you _fucking_ say his name!” Yuri snapped his hips in and Dimitri screamed out. His breathing took on a more frantic quality and he began to pant wildly as Yuri began to fuck him hard and raw.

His thrusts were as controlled as a machine’s piston—going roughly at a quick and unfailing rate as he watched in great, bleeding intensity Dimitri’s tearful, broken face twitch with absolute pleasure.

“You fucking whore. I saw the way you looked at him. It’s been that way ever since the Round Table Talk,” Yuri continued on darkly and pushed in deep until he was striking against Dimitri’s weeping prostate. His hand was still on the poor man’s cock and he thumbed over the precum dripping down the length. “Have you no fucking shame, huh? You would just love for him to take you, don’t you?!l”

“N-No, I don’t know...”

“A poor choice of words.”

The brutal pace of his hips did not let up and seemingly quickened with irritation. Sweat clung to Yuri’s own beautiful face in a faint sheen as his hair clung to white, flushed skin. He glared down at Dimitri, half murderous and completely mad.

Suddenly, his hand left Dimitri’s cock and he reached over to harshly tweak a nipple. He pulled it back hard before twisting it and giving it a hard flick—Dimitri withered from the pain and arched his back, crying obscenely. Somewhere through the mist, he gave a loose, mad laugh and shook his head

“Who is he to you?” Yuri demanded, pulling on the other nipple. His cock ached inside Dimitri, twitching with every powerful thrust, and the poor man’s prostate swelled from the invading violence. “Well, tell me then!”

“An o-old...school friend—aGhhH!!!” Dimitri cried out as Yuri rolled his hips and sunk in all the way. He arched his back out and held onto the bed sheets desperately.

“What _eLsE_!?! Don’t you fucking hide anything from me, little boy,” Yuri growled. Frustration and anger sheared through Dimitri like a knife. The pounding did not stop, his cock was bouncing against his chest, and the only thing in his one-eyed vision was stars. Stars, Moons, and the heavens above.

“Aghhh...W-We used to...I can’t...we used to date—“

Yuri’s hand slammed right around Dimitri’s neck and squeezed hard. Suddenly, the half-lidded eyes of a near shot mind widened, trembling with tears as he opened his mouth and screamed; he came hot ribbons all over his chest and face, painting him white, and Yuri kept fucking him without an end in sight.

Any restraint in the man was all but gone, replaced with a bitter, dark malevolence.

The hand around Dimitri’s throat tightened and he could no longer breath. But somehow, in the violence of it all, the near killing action felt nostalgic and it washed over him so gently.

Dimitri’s eyelids fluttered, tears trailing down his reddened cheeks, and he allowed himself to drift away momentarily.

  
  


_By the time he gained consciousness, Claude was still pounding into him roughly, shaking the bed to near collapse. Dimitri’s ass was sore, his nipples were swollen over and rubbing against the wet sheets of his bed, and Claude’s other hand was pumping him fast, still greedy for him to cum many times over._

_He gasped as Claude’s twitching cock violently plunged into his abused prostate—long, hard and deeply brutal thrusts that forced the abused boy to cry out and moan shamelessly—tears flowing down in hot trails. Everything flashed red and white and for a moment, Dimitri was certain he saw the Goddess._

_Then Claude’s fingers slipped through his tender scalp and suddenly yanked Dimitri back, forcing his glazed over eyes to stare right at him as he fucked him hard. Claude’s face, usually so amused and laid back, was layered with a thin sweat as the green of his eyes darkened with shadows and a half crescent moon smile slit across that dangerously taut expression._

“ _Say my name,” Claude growled as he tightened his grip on Dimitri’s hair and snapped his hips in._

_Drool dribbled down Dimitri’s swollen lips from an earlier face fucking, and he could only let out a few incoherent sounds._

“ _What? What was that?”_

“ _C-Claude,” Dimitri finally gasped out as the man fucked his prostate brutally, the wet slap of his balls hitting the base of Dimitri’s reddened ass with sleek and cum splattering on the bed._

_Claude licked his lips and grinned, sharp toothed and high on ambrosia. He leaned in and tasted Dimitri’s lips, tasting all the blood and spit fully. When they pulled back, a web of saliva kept them connected, kept them tethered._

“ _No one else can take you—not like this,” he muttered, chuckling darkly like a man on the brink of madness. He shook his head, brown locks falling over his sweaty face. His hand was still clasping deep against Dimitri’s scalp and suddenly, he forced the poor boy’s face down against the bed._

_He angled Dimitri’s ass up higher, slapped his hand against the white skin, and began to drive himself quickly—each thrust pushing the poor boy deep and deeper into the mattress. Claude slinked over and laughed in his ear._

“ _Tell me, my lion, who do you belong to?”_

“ _Y-You,” Dimitri murmured, too weak to say beyond a sound. His eyes were half lidded and white with lust, and drool dripped from his swollen lips right onto the bed. Despite the hours of fucking between them, his ass was still so tight and Claude continued to slam into him, abusing his prostate._

“ _I can’t hear you, Dima~” Claude sang in a dangerous tone—impatience. His fingers tightened into Dimitri’s skull and he suddenly yanked the boy back up, watching the imprints of his beautiful spine flutter against the white skin. Claude’s eyes lowered and he growled. “Say it louder.”_

“ _You! I belong to you and no one else!”_

_Claude said nothing else and chased his pleasure towards the end of their fucking. He shut his eyes, threw his head back, and roared as he filled Dimitri with hot delight. There was so much of it that it spilled out of the boy’s abused hole and dripped into a small puddle at the base of his balls._

_His cock throbbed deep against Dimitri’s painted guts and the sheer force of the orgasm alone nearly made him ripe the blonde hair from Dimitri’s head._

_Finally, once the pleasure died away to weariness, Claude pulled out of the boy and watched with dark intent as more cum spilled out of his red hole. He took two fingers and forced some of his fluids back in, earning him a weak mutter from Dimitri._

_Pleased, the man slinked over his limp form. And from below, Dimitri saw a God. An equally cruel, equally loving God who took immense pleasure in his violent quaking, marked with aftershocks and shivering._

“ _That’s right,” Claude declared in a foreign voice that was not his own. “You’re mine. You’ll always be mine. And even if we should part one day, your body will always remember me, Dima.” He leaned down until his lips were just a few inches away from Dimitri’s. And the King smiled._

“ _Always.”_

  
  


The darkness parted and when Dimitri woke up for the second time, he found himself sprayed naked under the sheets. Pain from all sides soared when he tried to get up and he peered down at his body. Red, bite marks, swollen nipples, and a distant feeling of heat sloshing around in his stomach. Night had fallen over through the glass walls in gentle hum and Dimitri could see a slender figure leaning against the balcony of his bedroom.

Yuri, watching the city below with a cigarette between his fingers. Just a long figure against the black, star-filled horizon and marked with the distant hum of street lights and nightlife. Dimitri tried to move but every limb of his ached terribly and he collapsed against the pillow in a sweaty fervor as he kept his weakened gaze at Yuri.

The distance between them seemed so great.

“You called out his name,” Yuri was the first to speak; he did not turn around and spoke to the air, to the smoke that hovered from his cigarette.

“I see,” was all Dimitri could say.

“Was he really that important to you? I thought you lost your memory.”

“I did, but I recognized him somehow. I responded to him.”

“I saw the way that bastard eye-fucked you today. The way he licked his lips and scanned your figure. You felt it too, didn’t you? I bet you reviled in that shit,” Yuri muttered darkly. The anger did not seem to be so present anymore—nothing left over but a lingering resentment.

“Why do you care?” Dimitri braved in asking and even prompted himself up on his elbows. When the long yearning question left his lips, it finally forced Yuri to turn around to regard him. “You and I aren’t dating. You said it yourself—domesticity isn’t your scene.”

“What the hell are you going on now?” the lilac man growled, eyes flaring up bright and sinister. “So what, you think you could shack up with an old flame and leave me behind?!”

Dimitri shook his head. “Yuri, you said relationships were bad for business. You never wanted a commitment in the first place and I respected that. Is it so wrong for me to seek companionship when I belong to no one?”

“I’m not abandoning you,” he added quickly with his hands raised. “I’m not leaving you. I love you so dearly. But we just have different wants and I just don’t...I don’t think I could keep having sex with you unless we’re in a committed relationship. And that’s impossible—you have your business and I know you sleep around with other people for such purposes. And I...I really like the idea of dating. And romance. And marriage. And all those conventions you despise so much.” Dimitri shook his head, apologetic. “Yuri, I’m so sorry.”

Yuri did not reply. He stared very coldly at the man on the bed and slowly inhaled the cigarette lodged between his beautifully slender fingers. Dark, thinning smoke spilled out from his pink lips and there, gradually, came a smile. A wicked, cruel smile like a knife in the darkness. And it was all pointed at Dimitri, edged and ready for the kill.

Finally, the man strolled into the dark realm of the cold bedroom. The entire time his eyes leered at Dimitri, glowing purple with flashes of beautifully contained rage. An art for any professional killer who calls himself a businessman as he wiped the blood from his wages. Once Yuri stood right at the edge of the bed, he slowly curled his cold hand around Dimitri’s chin—fingers right over a fast, beating pulse, and gently tilted his head up until their eyes directly met.

Outside, the ambulance roared with lights, red and white.

“I will be leaving for Albinea soon. An important shipment of mine has gone missing and I will be taking care of the mission personally. I will be gone for a few weeks. And by the time I come back, I want one thing from you: kneel at my feet and beg for forgiveness. Beg for pardon and I _might_ think of taking you back. But.” Eyes went dark; smile turned inward into a predator’s toothy grin before the jaws opened for the killing blow. “If you have decided so foolishly to go ahead and leave me behind, then you and I will no longer have any association with each other. You will no longer be under my protection and I am free to do with you as I have done to many other foolish businessmen and empires. I will sell all your secrets, tear down your family’s legacy, render you useless. Perhaps once you’re homeless and vilified by the world, I might just steal you away and have my men fuck you to death. Or I could sell you as my top whore and watch as people use you over and over until you lose all sense of verbal language. Or perhaps I could give you away as a personal gift to some of my underworld friends overseas—like what I did to the others. Oh, the possibilities are absolutely delicious, Mr. Blaiddyd. Absolutely _delicious_.”

Dimitri shook his head simply. “No, you won’t. I know you won’t.”

There was a growl and suddenly, Dimitri’s head rang out with the sound of a million church bells as the side of his head was smashed against the headboard. His cheek swollen painful and blood dripped down from the small cut on his head and his bruised lips. Yuri had stepped back, watching him coldly as he wiped his knuckles with a severe nonchalance.

This was not the boy who slept for many nights on end in the warm embrace of Dimitri’s constellation-sticker covered room but the underworld king himself. Fódlan's personal boogeyman hiding beneath the bed. Apathy and cruelty existed side by side. He strikes clean and true and never ever misses. And he never ever feels, just acts.

“You have one month. Until then, clean yourself up, whore. Looking at you puts a bad taste in my mouth,” Yuri stated dully as he turned to leave the room.

Dimitri closed his eyes as the blood dripped down and painted the side of his head. “I still love you.” 

The door slammed shut and he was alone once again. This time, Edelgard did not speak to him.

__________________

**The Abyss_encrypted entry: Approved for [USER_Riegan]**

**Host: User_Lilac Bird**

**IP_Unknown**

**Lilac Bird** – I know what you want.

 **Riegan** – ???

 **Lilac Bird** – Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd is off limits.

 **Riegan** – I already told you. I have no intention of hurting him.

 **Lilac Bird** – It does not matter. He is not yours.

 **Riegan** – Are you okay, dude? You’re acting strange...

 **Lilac Bird** – I will fulfill your request. But if I see you near him again, I will kill you. Do you understand me, Claude von Riegan?

 **Riegan** – WHO ARE YOU?

 **Riegan** – Wait. No. Are you—

**Lilac_Bird has exited the chat. This session will now close for security purposes.**

__________________

**Sylvain and Felix**

  
  


**I’m so selfish. I should not ask this of you two, especially after all you have done for me. You both deserve happiness. But please, please reply. Let me know that you two haven’t forgotten me.**

**I’m so alone. I miss you.**

**Claude will be here soon. Maybe things will be better soon...**

_[Automatic Message] We're on vacation right now and may not attend your calls and text. We will contact you after 12 months_

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/Meatbike344)
> 
> Will update bi-weekly/monthly! See y'all later!

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the sequel folks to Garreg Mach Boarding School for the Troubled Youth! Are you attempting to read this without reading the first work? More power to you! But it will get super confusing with all of the references and past events XD so if you have the time, check out the first work! 
> 
> I have a [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/Meatbike344)


End file.
